


9 Crimes

by TheNorthRemembers



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Cheating, Child Abuse, Emotions, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, dark past stuff mentioned, dark stuff also happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 131,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7723690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNorthRemembers/pseuds/TheNorthRemembers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meteos and Sneaky's relationship at the end of spring split and beginning of summer split 2015.<br/>Angst, smut and a poor attempt at humor. Kinda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Title inspired by the song 9 crimes)  
> As usual, biggest thanks to Succube bc wihtout her this wouldn't exist <3

 

**_ March 29th, 2015 _ **

 

 

It’s the last week, the last day of the regular split.

 

 Spring Split 2015 is coming to an end tonight. After that it’s just the best teams of the north American region left to fight to the teeth in the playoffs, battling for much needed points, competing, rival with each other for the title of spring split champion. Tensions are running high for everybody.

 

After having to give up first place to TSM in summer 2014 Cloud 9 had started the split with their mind set on reclaiming their metaphorical throne as NA’s number 1 team.

 

Ironically the split that would follow was not a dominating performance getting them to the top of the ladder where people have grown accustomed to seeing cloud 9. It has been a rocky up and down that has lead them here, week 9, the end of the road if they didn’t step up now.

 

Before they go on stage Will throws Zachary a glance who’s standing next to him, his hand buried in the pockets of his white C9 jacket. Will sticks his tongue out and Zachary pulls a face. He’s tense. They all are. It’s do or die now. Well. Not literally die. Still. Will can feel his heart hammering in his chest when player management gives them the sign to walk on stage. It’s a weird feeling because he’s no longer used to this, to being nervous about playing on stage, he’s been doing it for years with these guys by his side. Being nervous isn’t part of the routine. Usually.

 

Hai gives them all a thumps up and a cheery smile and this is it. Daerek goes first, the rest of them follows. Will takes a deep breath.

 

 

***

 

 

„They made Sneaky  MVP.” Is the first thing his teammates say to Will, when he comes backstage after doing that short post-game interview. He just quirks one eyebrow at them.

 

Hai raises his phone as an answer to the question Will did not ask. News travel fast. Sneaky MVP.  He deserves it. Of course he does. Still Will is never quite sure how it really is decided who gets that title. Not that it matters really.

 

He is feeling good, he can barely keep the smile off his face and really there is no reason to do so anyway.

 

 His team is grinning back at him. Winning three games in a row, coming back like that after that disastrous loss against T8 the previous week, it’s a huge weight being lifted off their shoulders and Will feels like breathing is a little easier now. They made it. After an up and down split, ‘the worst in C9 history’ as they say, they still made it. Second place, securing their playoffs spot convincingly. God it feels good.

 

“Nice.” Will says receiving a pat on the back from Hai “He deserves it.”

 

They all do. Anyway.

 

His eyes scan their little group on instinct, looking for Zachary.

 

They hadn’t hugged on stage, stage hugs have never really been a C9 thing, so once the bright letters spelling victory had shown on their screens they had just smiled at each other, taking in the cheers from the audience and the relief of managing to perform when it most matters. And then it had been time to give the high fives to the fans, then shake CLGs hands, Zachary leading the way, Will close behind him.

 

 They packed up their things and while the rest of team had headed backstage, feeling high of their victory Will had stayed behind for the interview, giving the people Meteos’ perspective on what they just accomplished. It doesn’t take long, just a few minutes, then a quick chat with a few riot people  and he’s ready to join his team backstage.

 

And there he is now, with these guys who have been his family over the last years, his favorite people in the world but there is one missing. The one Will wants to celebrate this victory with above anyone else.

 

“Where is Sneaks?” Will asks looking around. Hai shrugs noncommittally and so does Daerek.

 

“Restroom, I think.” An answers eventually and Will doesn’t think much of it. It happens, the stress on stage, the pressure, you forget to go during the breaks and then when it’s done, win or lose you gotta make a run for it. They’ve all been there.

 

He can still hug Zachary later, kiss him even. Maybe. Will isn’t too big on the whole PDA thing and neither is Zachary. It’s a private thing so mostly when they are in public, with the guys, even though the team knows about them and their relationship, they keep it on the down low. They both are more comfortable with that. They can kiss later. Make up for all the lost time and touches. When it’s just the two of them Will can’t get enough form being close to Zachary. It’s mutual really.

 

He’s already looking forward to that tonight. The thing is, and Will has thought about this more than probably possible within the short time frame it takes to walk from stage to this little backstage area, they haven’t been that close the past weeks. Not physically. Emotionally is a different story.

 

Practice had been stressful, the gamedays themselves even more, not living up to expectations, it had been straining, Will realizes this. Looking back he’s probably been a little distant, maybe, towards Zachary.

 

But that’s oaky right? They are competitors, they both are, Zachary gets that. He knows that when things aren’t going as well as they should that Will has to squeeze in some extra hours of practice instead of fooling around with him, that he’s got his head full with so many things. They are professionals. Things happen. That doesn’t mean they can’t bounce back to the C9 they were before this split, the C9 where no one doubted they belonged on top of NA. If C9 can, so can he and Zachary, so can Meteos and Sneaky.

 

“I wanna invite you guys all out to drinks.” Their coach Charlie announces just as Will zips open his backpack searching for his phone. “But first I gotta talk with a few people. And you have the fan meet. See you all at the van in about an hour.”

 

“Wuhu.” Daerek cheers nudging Will with his shoulder and Will decides that calling Zachary really isn’t that necessary right now. Instead he just sends a quick text.

 

[To] Sneakers

_Meeting @ the van in 1 hour. Drinks on Charlie!_

 

He hesitates for a moment, glances at An who’s standing right next to him but doesn’t pay him much mind, instead enthusiastically talks to Jack. Will sends another text.

 

[To] Sneakers

_Gonna suck your dick real good  2night, mvp_

 

He grins to himself slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Tonight is going to be good. Sure, the sex with Zachary is always good. Even if things haven’t been as easy as they used to be lately, _that_ between them has always worked well. No matter what, despite them not being that big on talking about feelings and other emotional stuff, they always have this to fall back on. It’s not ideal, Will is aware of that but so far it’s been working for them. And what the hell, they are guys, they are only twenty and relationships aren’t exactly their area of expertise.

 

And Will hopes, as him and the rest of the team make their way slowly towards the entrance hall where the fan meet will be in a few minutes, that things are going to get better again from now on. _He_ wants to do better. Not just regarding his performance as a player but also as a boyfriend.

 

Be there for Zachary a bit more, be more supportive and everything. Emotionally. There’s been a lot of pressure on everyone this split but Zachary has been the one to take it all on, comments like that ‘even though C9 has had an overall shaky split, Sneaky has always been a threat’ and that Sneaky is the most consistent and reliable player on the team, it’s flattering, motivating, but Will knows it also doubles the pressure on Zachary.

 

He knows, that over the past weeks, he hadn’t been able to be there for Zachary the way he should have been. It’s kind of weird, looking back now, being aware of that, of his short comings as a boyfriend. But it’s not like he didn’t notice but he’s simply been too busy, to consumed with other, not more important but more well…league concerning problems.

 

He wonders how it’s for people with normal lives, with normal jobs. Dating, relationships and all that. Easier? Maybe. Probably not. Different circumstances, different problems. And apart form that, this life, this weird, abnormal world he finds himself in, without it he’d never found his best friend.

 

Maybe Will thinks, maybe they should try and talk about this sometimes. They’ve been together for a year. Talking about feelings, they should get that down some of these days, shouldn’t they?

 

Probably.

 

Maybe Will can explain to Zachary, that he _does_ value what he’s been doing for the team, carrying them, keeping up the spirit,  taking it on his shoulders. Because Will does. He really does. Even though he might not be the best at showing it sometimes.  It’s just that it’s hard sometimes. Recognizing how hard someone else, someone you deeply care about is fighting and giving it his all while you yourself are weighing that very person down.  Will tried. And he knows, god he knows it hasn’t all been his fault, their rocky season, his self-esteem isn’t low enough for that, but he does recognize that he’s been part of the problem. While Zachary hasn’t been.

 

They can talk about this too, maybe. Tomorrow? Some time this week? Or maybe wait till after playoffs?

 

Will smiles at him as Zachary joins them at the fan meet about 3 minutes in, looking a little flustered, hair disheveled and his breathing going quickly. He probably hurried to get here in time.

 

He mouths ‘ _late_ ’ at Zachary who wordlessly shoves himself between Daerek and Hai after shooting Will a somewhat apologetic look.

 

That’s what they do in public. Not the look, of course. The standing apart from each other most of the time. In the gaming house, even though they keep it low-key, it’s always Will next to Zachary. Zachary next to Will. On the couch, at the table, you name it.

 

Sneaky and Meteos? Not so much.

 

It’s better that way they, the team, management  have decided. Keeping professional and private life separate as much as it’s possible when those things are so closely intertwined as it happens when you make your hobby your job, when you get to live your dream and just so happen to fall in love while doing so.

 

It all has downsides, doesn’t it?

 

They smile for the cameras, hug the fans, do their job. It’s good, it’s nice. But with each passing moment Will gets a bit impatient. He’s not asking for much, even a high five with Zachary would do it for him right now, but being this happy, this excited, this proud without physically sharing it with Zachary, it feels weird, like there is too much energy and non at all at the same time coursing through his veins. When they are finally ushered away by staff Will has to fight the smile of relief from creeping on his face.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy spending time with the fans, making them happy. It’s just that he enjoys kissing Zachary more.

 

“Hey, you.” Will says bumping his elbow gently into Zachary’s shoulder, as the team walks through the familiar hallways of the NA LCS studio. “Congrats, Zach.”

 

 Zachary glances up at him. Their height difference never fails to amuse Will. He’s grown a lot over the past years while Zachary really hasn’t. It has come to the point where Will can basically stand behind Zachary and rest his chin on the other boy’s head. It’s fun. Sometimes it pisses Zachary off. Especially the fact that he almost has to stand on his tiptoes to get a comfortable angle when kissing Will. Something about it not feeling manly or something.

 

Will waits for a reply, even if it’s just a shove back.  Zachary doesn’t say anything though. He just looks away briefly and for a moment it almost looks like he’s going to stop as his steps slow down. Will almost does the same, because this look on Zachary’s face, it’s unfamiliar, something he doesn’t quite know how to place, but then, before anything else can happen,  Jack turns around and it’s only then that Will realizes they’ve already fallen quite a bit behind.

 

“Sneaky, Meteos, put some boots on and move it.” he nods into the direction of the exit and just like that, whatever it was Will thought he might have seen on Zachery’s  face is gone, replaced by an half annoyed half amused eye roll.

 

“Jeez, Jack.” Zachery groans and speeds up his steps, walking past Will. “Get out of my ass, would you.”

 

Will hesitates for a split second but then shakes his head. It’s nothing, he thinks, doing a weird little half jog to catch up with the rest of the team already in the parking lot, where their van is waiting.

 

Zachary climbs in before Will can and everybody else is already seated so Will has to squeeze past An and Zachary so he can climb into his usual seat, the car window to his left, Zachary to his right. He grins at Zachary, who seems to be busy fumbling with his seatbelt, his backpack half balanced on his knees, which makes the whole seatbelt situationunnecessary complicated. He could just put it on the ground or hand it over to An, but then again, why make something easy if you can make it complicated?

 

 Will frowns, reaching for it, shoving Zachary’s backpack underneath his seat together with his own, while the other boy barely spares him a glance.

 

“Zach.” Will says, in a low voice. Zachary doesn’t look up. “Hey. Zach.” Will repeats but the reaction is the same. He sighs.

 

“C’mon, Sneaky.”

 

Finally Zachary reacts, doing his signature move, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. Will smiles nodding to his own hand in a fist offered to Zachary. “Don’t leave me hanging, dude.”

 

Zachary raises an eyebrow but eventually  he gives in and Will gets the fist-bump, which will have to do until they are alone tonight.

 

“We won.” Will says. It feels worth repeating.

 

“We freakin’ won.” Zachary affirms and the smile on his face is something Will likes far better than whatever was going on there before, despite the fact that Zachary quickly turns away again, opting for looking ahead.

 

The driver starts the car and begins to pull out of the parking lot while Hai proceeds humming some song that doesn’t match the one playing on the radio. Will doesn’t recognize neither and it doesn’t really matter.  Instead he listens to Daerek and An’s _still_ ongoing discussion about the last game and Zachary’s uncharacteristic silence.

 

They halt at a red traffic light, when Will feels Zachary’s thumb tentatively brush against the outside of his thigh. It’s just a small movement, between them and the backs of the row of seats in front of them. It creates an illusion of privacy.

 

Will looks out of the window, letting his hand drop between them so he can intertwine their fingers. Neither of them say anything. Zachary’s hand is a little bit sweaty but that’s okay. He smiles. Things are going to be good.

 

The traffic light turns green and the car makes a left turn.

 

“Dude!” An suddenly yells out, almost toppling over with giggles that have Zachary jump since he’s basically being yelled directly into is ear. The rest of the team, including Will, shoot An equally confused and amused looks.

 

An points at Zachary who in return turns to Will, his eyebrows raised in question. Will just shrugs, making his _I have no idea_ face.

 

“What?” Hai asks curiously, leaning forward “What’s going on?” He has taken his earphones out looking at Zachary and An expectantly as well as curious.

 

An just points at Zachary again and Will feels as confused as Zachary looks when suddenly Hai as well lets out a middle school worthy giggle. Not being in on a joke can get quite annoying quickly. Will can already see it on Zachary’s face.

 

Daerek almost gets out of his seat in his attempt to get a look at whatever the rest of them is looking at while all Will can see is Zachary’s not very amused and quite honestly irritated expression, while he tries to batt Hai’s hand away, who has attempted to reach for his neck? Shoulder? What?

 

“Guys.” Daerek groans, letting himself fallback into his seat. He shoots Will an accusing glance “Seriously?”

 

“Seriously? Seriously what?” Zachary snaps, glaring at them. He does that thing with his hair again, pressing his lips together, “What? What is it??”

 

Will can’t help but notice that Zachary seems a little agitated, he usually doesn’t get annoyed that quickly by the antics of his teammates. Usually he is the first in row to do stupid and annoying shit, Will right there with him.

 

This seems to be different. Maybe it’s all the pressure falling off of him? Having an opposite reaction from Will and the rest of the team? Or maybe his mind is already with playoffs, the next game, the next fight.

 

An sighs and pokes the side of Zachary’s neck, which Will can’t see from his position. Judging from where Zachary’s hand darts it’s an area somewhere between behind his ear and the back of his neck.

 

“Guys.” Daerek shakes his head, the way he does when he over exaggerates being disappointed “It’s all fun and games but we talked about this?” he gives Will as well as Zachary, who is still rubbing the side of his neck, a pointed look, “No visible hickeys. Meteos, not cool. Sneaky, you shouldn’t let him do that.”

 

_Hickey?_

 

_What?_

 

Zachary freezes and slowly, awfully slowly, turns around, face blank, just looking at Will.

 

Will stretches his arm mechanically, softly touching Zachary’s chin to turn his head just as far as necessary so he can get a look at what seems to amuse his teammates so much by leaning out of his seat a bit, as far as his seatbelt allows it. Zachary lets him do it, head not turning back even after Will retracts his hand from his jaw.

 

Sure enough there’s a hickey there. Will furrows his brows.

 

_Oops?_

 

Zachary is still staring at him, looking somewhat shell-shocked. And wow okay, mistakes happen? No reason to stare at Will like this, like the sky just came crashing down or something. Will decides to try and lighten the mood a bit, putting on a bright grin shrugging at the other guys.

 

“Don’t blame me, man.” He winks at Zachary “This ain’t my work.”

 

Hai fake-gasps while the others bellow in laughter. Will grins. Zachary looks like he’s about to pass out.

 

He’s _really_ not in a good mood it seems.

 

Will gently nudges Zachary’s shoulder, trying to say sorry as well as he can with just his eyes. He knows their rules. He knows Zachary doesn’t like hickeys. And the truth is he can’t really remember putting it there, but then again, things happen, right? The heat of the moment and shit like that. No need for Zachary to put on this graveyard face. It’s not like it was on purpose obviously.

 

“Unbelievable.” Hai clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Sneakerino having a steamy lover on the side. Plottwist.”

 

An snickers again. Will has always thought he kinda sounds like a witch when he laughs. A tiny, asian, male witch, though. It’s endearing.

 

“Yeah Sneaky.” Will sighs loudly “Damn those side hoes, am I right? No hickeys on game-days. It’s in the fucking contract.”

 

It earns him another round of laughter and Will lets himself sink back into his seat satisfied, while Zachary fumbles with his glasses, wiping the lenses with the hem of his sleeve.

 

When Zachary puts his glasses back on Jack turns around from the passenger seat, a bit like he timed it. His expression is friendly and well meaning. _Uh-Oh._ It’s lecture-time-face.

 

 “On a serious note though, guys. You know this can’t happen.” _Sure it can,_ Will thinks but he doesn’t say anything. There’s no point to it.

 

“So, take it easy with the hickeys, okay?” Jack gives them both a pointed look for good measure before turning back to Charlie.

 

Will pulls a face and so does Zachary. It’s always a bit awkward having these discussions with their manager. When they first came clean to the team and the staff about their relationship there had been an awful lot of this kind of awkwardness when rules and boundaries and shit ‘needed’ to be established and discussed. 

 

It’s something neither Will nor Zachary are particularly keen on living through again. Their relationship is, to a certain level, nobody’s business but their own. Especially when it comes to who does what on who with their mouth. At least in Will’s opinion. And it’s not like a single hickey would have the fans draw conclusions. It could be anything really. From a normal bruise to an actual hickey left by some secret ‘girlfriend’ the public doesn’t know about yet. Will doesn’t really see what all the fuss is about, but he doesn’t really care _that_ much about his right to leave hickey’s on his boyfriends neck so it isn’t really worth a discussion either.

 

Still. Zachary seems particularly uncomfortable and Will can’t help but feel a little guilty.

 

So. _Big_ oop _s_ on the hickey. Will really hopes Zachary won’t be too mad at him.

 

It’s a little weird though. Because for a split second, when Zachary looks at him, there is something like guilt there. And why on earth would Zachary look guilty? Putting that hickey there himself would have required a level of skillfulness and frankly creepy alien dislocation tactics that Will just can’t see Zachary doing. Or anyone for that matter. So it clearly must be Will’s fault. Again: _big oops._

 

“Hey.” Will leans in as close as he deems socially acceptable in front of your friends. “I really didn’t mean to. The hickey and all that. ‘m sorry.”

 

“Mhm” is all Zachary replies.

 

 

***

 

 

Will is used to it. To this.

 

 Being close to Zachary, but not close enough. Touching but not _touching_. He’s used to it, got practice. Sometimes it’s harder than other times, but mostly it’s fine.

 

It’s fine, when they do team meetings, when they just hang out with the boys, watch a movie. It’s fine when they are at the studio, when they play. It’s fine in the car. It’s not fine now. It’s not fine when he’s drunk, on alcohol and the realization of having made it to playoffs in second place. When it’s not fine it’s hard.

 

It’s hard, really hard, in the metaphorical and literal way. Right now, tonight, keeping his hands of his boyfriend feels like the hardest thing ever. Which is an exaggeration of course, but god, when they finally sit in the car, on the way back to the house after too many hours spent drinking and celebrating, Will is half inclined to just get his hand inside Zachary’s pants right here and now, throwing all the rules and regulations and shit out of the window.

 

He’s not going to actually do it. But the idea  alone is slightly tempting for his drunk brain.

 

And other body parts.

 

He’s looking over at Zachary know, his eyes almost glued to his lips and honestly, this look would probably a thousand times more telling than a single hickey ever could. Zachary’s lips, they are always pretty, they are Will’s second favorite thing about him, right after his humor, but when Zachary’s drunk they turn a special shade of red and Will can’t wait to feel them on his. The thought alone makes him feel restless. The good kind.

 

It’s only a short drive, shouldn’t take long to get back to the gaming house, but for some reason it does, it takes forever and longer, the alcohol in Will’s system causing minutes to stretch endlessly, like the ridiculously tasty mint colored gum he bought last week. The pack is half empty already, lying on his desk. Due to a series of unfortunate events that Will cannot quite recall right now he had managed to get some stuck in Zachary’s hair who was surprisingly not very amused.

 

Will giggles silently letting his head drop against the glass of the car window. His mouth tastes like cheap beer. He can feel the warmth of Zachary’s leg pressing against his. The music and the laughter and mumbling of his friends’ voices are just background noise.

 

This is good. A bit frustrating but good. He’s used to it. Will smiles.

 

When they finally arrive at the gaming house and they all pile out of the van into the driveway, Will quickly wraps his arm around Zachary’s shoulders because his knees are just a little bit wobbly and like this he can breathe in the scent of Zachary’s hair, if he just moves his head a little bit, walks a little askew.

 

“Carry me, Sneaky.” Will half whispers half yells as they stumble into the house, earning something almost resembling a chuckle form Zachary, who does his best to maneuver Will, without having him collide with any furniture, in the direction of their room. Well Zachary’s room. But it’s theirs. Most of the days at least. Will still has his, for obvious reasons. Mostly he just spends time there when both him and Zachary stream. And the truth is sometimes you just need your own space when living together with your boyfriend, who’s also technically your colleague, and far too many other guys 24/7.

 

The door falls shut behind them and suddenly, finally, it’s just the two of them, together, alone, in the same space. It’s good. It’s better.

 

Will smiles and lets himself drop backwards onto the bed, enjoying the way the world spins for a second until the dark ceiling above him comes back into focus. Zachary switches the light on then and Will groans, throwing his arms over his face.

 

Zachary is silent. Will can hear him take off his shoes, kick them into a corner.

 

“C’mon.” Zachary says and kneels in front of the bed, untying Will’s shoe laces because Will just can’t be arsed to move. Also, Zachary on his knees has always been an enjoyable sight for Will. Not that he can see it right now, from his position lying flat on his back but his imagination gets him a long way when it comes to this stuff.

 

He absentmindedly cups his cock through his jeans, while Zachary tosses Will’s shoes in the same direction as he did with his before.

 

“Sneaks.” Will mumbles, smiling “C’mere.”

 

He can feel the mattress dip and when he tilts his head Zachary is there, on the bed next to him. He’s quiet. Something about him is not quite as usual. He seems distant. Like he’s somewhere else with his mind.

 

Zachary reaches out and carefully removes Will’s glasses, putting them on the bedside table. Will follows the movement with his eyes.

 

“Are you mad?” Will asks quietly when Zachary lies down, his hand just an inch away from Will’s arm.

 

“’bout what?” Zachary asks and Will tries his hardest to ignore the buzzing in his ears. He feels dizzy.

 

“The-“  Will pokes an unspecific spot on Zachary’s neck because right now he can’t quite formulate the word he’s looking for. “The- you know. Told you ‘m sorry. Like- mh.”

 

“Stop saying sorry.” Zachary replies after a moment and it comes out rushed, and quiet, Will barely catches it before Zachary presses his lips to Will’s. Those pretty, pretty lips.

 

“Ah.” Will mumbles as he tries to shift, get a better angle to kiss back with a little more finesse. He’s been waiting so long for this. Hours at least. Which is, technically, not long at all, Will muses. Some people have long-distance shit going on. How annoying must that be?

 

 It takes him barely seconds to add tongue into the kiss, licking into Zachary’s mouth, allowing his hand to roam to Zachary’s neck, his jaw, get him closer, deepen the kiss. More, more, more.

 

It’s incredibly frustrating when Zachary pulls back far too soon, again that look on his face when his eyes graze over Will’s face. In the back of his drunk mind Will finds this a little bit unsettling but before he can read too much into this Zachary presses their lips together again, this time with more fervor, more urgency. Like he’s trying to prove something. Will can’t help but giggle a little bit burying his hands in Zachary’s soft hair.

 

“Easy” he lets his lips drop from Zachary’s lips to his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. “ ‘m not going anywhere.”

 

Zachary seems a little tense as he sighs softly arching into the touch, his fingers tightly gripped into Will’s shirt.

 

“Ah.” Will remembers suddenly and a grin spreads over his face as he straightens a bit, straddling Zachary’s thighs. “Promised you one hell of a blowjob, didn’t I?”

 

He’s already half hard himself and so should be Zachary. His hands find Zachary’s belt quickly but before he can do anything Zachary’s hand on his wrist stops Will. Will glances at Zachary in confusion.

 

This is unusual.

 

“Uh-“ Zachary starts, licking his lips. “Can I- I want to jerk you off first, yeah? Is that cool?”

 

“Uh.” Will is a little at loss but, well, who is he to decline the offer for a hand job, when he’s been dying to touch and be touched all night. “Sure, I guess. Like- By all means.” He rolls over gesturing towards his crotch.

 

Zachary works, quickly, the manual dexterity of a professional gamer, unbuttoning and unzipping Will’s jeans, pulling them down as far as necessary to comfortably get his hand on Will’s cock.

 

Will makes a small sound low in his throat, when there is finally skin to skin contact, Zachary wrapping his hand around his half hard cock while his lips press kisses to the side of Will’s neck.

 

Will is about to make some sort of joke about Zachary better not leaving any hickeys but just that moment Zachary flicks his thumb over the head of his cock and Will has to bite his lip to keep the embarrassingly high pitched gasp in. It’s not that he really _is_ embarrassed to make these sounds in front of Zachary. They both know sex is weird and weird noises happen and by now they literally have no shame when it comes to one another and this stuff, but the walls aren’t exactly thick and Will can still hear muffled voices from the living room.

 

The others are still up, still talking and enjoying themselves. Apparently in a good mood. Better than Zachery anyway. Will doesn’t quite understand why the other boy is acting the way he does tonight. He’d ask but right now he feels more like getting each other off than actual talking if he’s being honest. Still. Zachary _could_ cheer up a little.

 

So when Zachary’s lips find his again, just for a moment Will bites, just a little too hard, causing Zachary to falter in his rhythm, his hand on Will’s cock stopping for just a moment.

 

“The fuck?” Zachary says, his pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed.

 

Will grins. “For being so weird all day to me.” He kisses Zachary again, softer this time, bucking his hips up,  to get Zachary’s hand to move again. “ ’nd not the good kinda weird.”

 

Zachary hums something sounding pretty much like his trademark “Same” in response but doesn’t say much more instead he increases the speed of his hand movement, continuing to jerk Will off, his face pressed into Will’s shoulder. He can feel Zachary’s hot breath, can smell the alcohol, even though, on second thought, that might just be his own breath.

 

Far too soon, Will can feel heat coiling in his stomach, accompanied by more barely suppressed moans escaping his mouth and this is weird, because they’ve done this countless of times and Zachary knows the signs of Will getting close, he knows them, he knows if he doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop, that this whole thing will be over fairly quickly, but for some reason Zachary  keeps going, pressing his blunt fingernail close to that spot just underneath the head of Will’s cock, causing Will to feel more than just a little dizzy.

 

“Zach-“ he manages to get out, but Zachary doesn’t react, doesn’t stop. “Zach you gotta-“

 

Zach doesn’t.

 

_Fuck._

 

Will comes, Zachary’s name on his lips, cum covering Zachary’s hand and his own dick, some got onto his shirt.

 

_Fuck_.

 

Will lets his head drop back onto the pillow, sighing heavily. It’s not that he doesn’t like orgasms. He’s as much a fan of having them as anyone else probably. Especially when Zachary is the reason for them, but damn that was not how this night was supposed to go. Now he’s feeling spent and oversensitive while they haven’t even gotten properly started yet. Zachary is still fully clothed damnit and so is Will, except for his jeans pulled down a little.

 

He glances at Zachary who wipes his hand with a tissue before adjusting his glasses. His cheeks are red. He looks a little flustered.

 

“Dude.” Is all Will says. Zachary knows what he means.

 

“Dude.” Zachary echoes.

 

They are both quiet for a while.

 

“Just-“ Will clears his throat “Give me like 20 minutes or something and we can-“ he doesn’t finish his sentence instead he rolls to his side reaching for Zachary’s jacket so he can tug him in for a kiss. Zachary reluctantly complies.

 

The kiss starts out slow but grows more heated quickly and if he hadn’t just come, Will is sure his cock would already be half way to hard again in no time. As it is it just weakly twitches as Will presses his hand to Zachary’s crotch, palming him through his jeans.

 

“So…” Will says, smirking. “About that blowjob…” For emphasizes he squeezes lightly once. He knows how much of a turn on it usually is for Zachary when Will touches him over his clothes, gets him hot and bothered before finally finally touching naked skin.

 

This time it seems to be different though.

 

“I-“ Zachary’s eyes flicker away for a second, he shifts, a little like he’s uncomfortable. Will frowns. “Will, to be honest I’m-“ He sighs, carefully reaching down to where Will’s hand is still resting. He intertwines their fingers, pulling Will’s hand away from his crotch in the process.Will lets him. He is sure confusion must show on his face.

 

“I think I got a little too smashed.” Zachary mumbles sounding kinda off. “Like- there’s… probably not that much that’s gonna happen, down there in terms of , well-“

 

“Are you kidding me?” Will pulls back a bit to get a better look at Zachary. Zachary looks something between embarrassed, uncomfortable and guarded. “Are you saying you can’t get it up, because, you, you Zachery Scuderi aka Sneaky are _too_ drunk?”

 

“Yup.”

 

Will sits up and so does Zachary. He looks guilty now.

 

“Dude, what the hell, usually it’s like boner city in here, no matter how smashed we are.”

 

Zachery flicks his hair out of his eyes. “Well. No boner city tonight. ‘s closed.” He says.

 

“Uh.” Will, crosses and uncrosses his arms, opts for ruffling through his hair, waiting for Zachary to maybe say more, offer up some more of an explanation. Something that’s a little more believable than just alcohol taking its toll. Something that maybe doesn’t feel quite as damaging for Will’s pride. Because, well. This literally never happened before. With them.

 

Sex is what they do. It’s what they are good at. Even if they fight or things are difficult for reasons and talking isn’t really an option, they were always be able to do this. To find common ground. A bridge of some sort, a place where they would meet. Working things out through sex, probably not the most mature method but ever since they started this thing between them, it has been the red thread, the glue so to say.

 

He’ll have to think of a better metaphor once he’s more sober.

 

“Zach.” Will say, pressing his lips together for a short moment, his eyes flickering towards Zachary’s cock “Zach you are hard.”

 

It doesn’t sound accusing and Will doesn’t mean it that way. It’s more matter of fact, with a tiny bit of hurt. Maybe.

 

“Uhm.” Zachary tries a smile. “…that’s just a banana in my pocket?”

 

Will snorts, rolling his eyes, he can’t help but smile. You gotta respect a good bad joke.

 

“Okay then.” Will says after a moment. He doesn’t want to read too much into this. Zachary is probably just tired, even though that’d be quite unusual for him. Too tired for sex. But Will is not about to try to persuade his boyfriend into having sex when he’s evidently not in the mood. Boner or no boner.

 

He kicks off his jeans and crawls underneath the covers with just his shirt and boxers on.

 

“Since when is Mr. MVP of the week not up for victory sex, though?” he says it lightheartedly, doesn’t want that guilty look back on Zachary’s face.

 

“Mh.” Zachary mumbles while pulling off his jeans and pulling on the short he prefers to sleep in. “Maybe I’m just out of practice?”

 

“Out t of practice for victory sex?” Will shakes his head “Ouch. Did we really lose that often?”

 

Zachary doesn’t reply, instead he just stands there in front of the bed, wearing a somewhat indecisive expression. And again Will is not quite sure what to make of it.

 

“I’m gonna take a quick shower.” He says eventually, his hand hovers over the light switch, throwing a glance at Will. “I’m- Don’t wait up, yeah?”

 

He switches the light off and slips out of the room.

 

_Weird._

 

It takes Zachary about half an hour to come back, which is not surprising. Zachary likes long showers, always has. His hair wet and his skin warm from the hot water. He slips into bed next to Will without a word.

 

Will doesn’t turn around, lets Zachary snuggle close to him, because even though Zachary is significantly shorter than Will he enjoys being the big spoon most of the time and Will doesn’t exactly mind. It’s nice.

 

“Jerked off in the shower?” Will whispers, expecting the usual chuckle and ‘ _Yeah, thinking about Megan Fox of course’_ but Zachary just mumbles something unintelligible, nuzzling the back of Will’s neck.

 

***

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Here it is chapter 2 :)

**_ March 30th, 2015 _ **

 

Will doesn’t move much when he’s sleeping.  Some people, Zachary himself included when he sleeps alone, toss and turn, never lay still for long. Will isn’t one of them, once he’s asleep, he gets still, calm, turns a few times a night but that’s it.

 

 

It’s calming, soothing even and maybe that’s the reason why usually when Zachary sleeps next to Will, some of this calmness, this peace, stretches out to him too, makes it easier to settle in, to shake off the restlessness he often feels and just let sleep take over.

 

 

The feeling of Will’s soft breathing and the familiar smell of his skin are something Zachary had gotten used to over the last year and he might not have told Will any of this but during the off season, after Allstars and everything, when they’ve both went to their respective ‘homes’, Will to Virginia, Zachary to Florida, Zachary barely slept at all, no longer used to lying in a bed this empty.

 

 

He’d called Will, some talking, some laughing, some phone sex, easy, hearing his voice had made it easier and the nights hadn’t seemed that long.

 

 

Tonight seems longer than all those nights combined; despite, or maybe because Will is here with him, buried under their blanket right where he has fallen asleep, where Zachary had wrapped his arms around him, had tried to let himself drift off to sleep and just forget the day.

 

But he couldn’t.

 

Sleep wouldn’t come and he was left alone in the dark only with his thoughts and Will’s calm and even breathing to listen to.

It never takes Will long and Zachary had always envied him for that.

 

Right now he’s glad about it. Like this, Will didn’t notice Zachary untangling himself from him.

Having his arms wrapped around Will at first, he’d eventually rolled away, bringing as much distance between them as he could stand.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be close to Will, because he does. He wants to touch him, wants to feel the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his breathing, wants to wake him up and kiss him and fuck him and have everything be normal and good.  

 

Zachary wants all this so much and it should be easy. Will is just a few inches away from him, he can make out his silhouette in the dark, but it’s not right. It’s not right, so he just lies there. As close as he dares, as far away as he can stand.

 

And the truth is it still feels like it’s too much, like he’s deceiving Will, just by lying here next to him, by not talking, by his very presence and the weight of what he’s done. If Will knew, if Zachary told him, he’s sure Will probably wouldn’t want him in the same bed as him.

 

Every kiss, every touch of this night, it felt stolen, like Zachary was taking something, something that was offered to him, but didn’t belong to him anymore. He had no right to, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself from reciprocating the affections to a certain point. He had done it out of habit, out of longing, feeling the desperate urge to try and prove to himself and to Will, that he could do this, that nothing had to change, that nothing _had_ changed.

 

Zachary wants to know, that he can ignore this guilt and shame, that he can push it away and keep going, make this work, make up for fucking up, for being weak. Being physical with Will is the only way Zachary really knows, it’s familiarity, it’s the way they work but still, yesterday he hadn’t been able to. Couldn’t bring himself to be with Will that way. Not because he didn’t want Will, because he did, he always does, but because it didn’t feel right.

 

Giving Will that hand job last night had felt wrong enough, for so many reasons. Touching him this intimately, even though Zachary had tried to keep it to a minimum, had felt like an invasion of privacy in itself, an additional breaking of trust, because Will had let him touch him, just like that, and Zachary had let him, despite knowing _who_ he had touched hours ago with those very same hands in a  not so different way.

 

Zachary knows he acted weird, knows his actions probably jump from one end of the spectrum to the other, just like his emotions, but he can’t help it. It’s all messed up and he just feels so powerless, so torn. He wants to go back. Rewind and press play. Do it right. Not fuck it up.

 

The thought run in loops through his head, again and again and eventually, despite it, Zachary must have fallen asleep, because about an hour before Will starts to stir, Zachary himself had woken up, feeling exhausted and tired, like he hadn’t slept at all.

 

Will is grumbling something, rolling over onto his side and burying his head in his pillow. He’s even less of a morning person than Zachary is. His dyed blonde hair is sticking up in every direction and Zachary almost smiles at that. It looks ridiculous.

 

He can’t stop himself from reaching out, ruffling through it and Will, a bit like a cat, nuzzles into the touch before lazily blinking up at him. Zachary feels like breathing is a little easier for a moment.

 

Because for those few seconds, just the blink of an eye, it’s like it’s any other morning, it’s just Will waking up, Zachary with him, it’s just him looking at his boyfriend, while the late morning sun shines through the window brightly since they forgot to draw the curtains last night. It’s just the two of them. Zachary and Will. And everything is alright.

 

It’s just another morning.

 

Except that it’s not and Zachary can see the exact moment the events of last night come back to Will, causing him to frown slightly.

 

It’s this look of not understanding but still thinking that scares Zachary shitless because last night he’d been lucky. Will had been so happy and giddy and drunk and Zachary is half sure that Will _chose_ , maybe subconsciously, not to think too much about Zachary’s odd behaviour. Will does that sometimes, ignoring things he’s not really willing to deal with right now, pretending not to notice, not to see. It’s a way of avoiding conflict for him.

 

Last night Zachary had been incredibly thankful for that, while cursing it at the same time, because now it’S too late, it’s the next morning, the next day and it feels like he’s crossed an invisible line by not immediately telling Will, by waiting. It makes the betrayal even worse but there isn’t really any going back now, is there?

 

He started this act, he has to go with it now, right?

 

Zachary just wishes he was a better actor. He’s trying, he _has to_ try. This is everything. He just has to try and make it work, get over himself. It’s not just him, or them, it’s also the team. Everyone will be affected.

 

He feels guilty. He can’t change that. But if he manages to hide it better, to pretend everything is alright, maybe it _will_ be eventually? Maybe he can keep the ‘affecting’ as minimal as possible? Damage control, as they say.

 

Telling the truth, it wouldn’t serve anyone any good.

 

Last night at one point, while Will had been sleeping, Zachary had been on his phone, googling shit, trying to figure out what people do in this kinda situation, what the right thing is.

 

Turns out, unsurprisingly, that nothing really is _the right thing_ or rather that nobody has a right answer, if there even is one. Some say, you should tell them, that honesty is important, that without the truth there can’t be any healing blablabla some psychological shit about poisoning a relationship with lies blabla. While others say, don’t. Don’t tell them. Keep it to yourself. Telling only helps yourself and your conscience and not anybody else.

 

It seems that like with any topic, the internet just cannot agree on anything really.

 

And Zachary, well Zachary just is completely at loss. He knows he doesn’t want to lose Will. He knows he made a mistake. He knows, god he knows he won’t do it again.

 

What he doesn’t know is what to do. How to fix this.

 

He swallows, putting up a smile for Will who just groans, rubbing his hands over his face.

 

“Ah fuck.” he mumbles and oh Zachary knows that voice.

 

“Hungover?” he asks.

 

“No.” Will stares at him “I feel fucking great, dude. I’m gonna run 5k right now. Fucking watch me.”

 

The last part is barely audible because Will has already turned around again, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

 

“Are you watching?”

 

Zachary lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah. I’m impressed.”

 

“I know, right.”

 

Zachary feels guilty for smiling, feels guilty for allowing Will to talk to him like that, so easy and natural, like they always do. It feels wrong, it feels like betrayal. Every look, every touch, Zachary feels like it’s making it all worse and worse and worse.

 

“Alcohol is your friend.” Zachary chooses to comment.

 

He remembers countless of streams, the so called ‘drunk streams’ where Meteos had been more or less drunk or well, started sober and ended up fucking wasted, talking incomprehensible hilarious shit and making one or two memorable plays while Sneaky had listened through teamspeak, laughing and joking with his drunk friend.

 

Later Zachary would go to Will’s room and make sure his boyfriend got into bed without any  bigger accidents, like the one time he almost knocked his monitor of his desk.

 

Sometimes -well most of the time- they would end up having sex, in the bed or on the floor, depending on how far they made it. Drunken, sloppy, enthusiastic sex. More laughs than moans.

 

Still great.

 

Last night they didn’t have sex, and the thought alone makes Zachary feel awkward, he feels like he owes Will an explanation, Will who had been so kind and easy and understanding, not pushing Zachary, not questioning it.

 

Zachary honest to god doesn’t know how he deserves this.

Well actually he’s pretty damn sure he doesn’t. Not anymore at least. Not after what he did.

 

He swallows, looking at Will who’s turned around again looking silently at Zachary. He wonders if Will is thinking about the same thing as he is.

 

“Kinda funny, isn’t it?” Will eventually says and Zachary doesn’t reply, his throat feels dry. “Me feeling like shit, while you- well, you were the one too drunk to-” _you know…_

 

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence.

 

Zachary hates this. He hates the flush creeping onto his face and the way Will says this, not accusing, not mad, just wondering, thoughtful. Will is not stupid, even if he sometimes pretends to be.

 

He also curses himself for not being a better liar.

 

“...Will, I-”

 

_What is he supposed to say? What is there to say?_

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

It sounds more like a question than anything else and Zachary would very much like to go back in time right now, use those hours spent lying awake, regretting and self-loathing, to come up with something more, something better, something a little more satisfying than just an awkward dissociated ‘sorry’.

Or better even, go back to before the game, before they walked on or rather off stage, go back to when he hadn’t fucked everything up yet.

 

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to talk about things. Much less about things like this.

 

“C’mere.” he mumbles instead, leaning down to press a kiss on Will’s chapped lips.

 

He knows this. He still knows how to do this, kissing Will, being close with him. He just has to ease back into it, learn to do it with the feeling of guilt taken roots in his stomach. He pulls back for a moment, taking a moment just to breath.  The tentative smile he finds on Will’s lips makes it a little easier, too. It’s enough to make him lean in again, kissing him lazily and slowly, feeling Will’s hands slip underneath his shirt, warm, roaming over his back, pulling him closer. This is good, this is right.

 

But it’s not, at least not completely, because despite it feeling so good, so perfect, Zachary still can’t quite shake the feeling of taking another step in the wrong direction. Yes, kissing Will is good, it’s great, he needs it he wants it, but Will wouldn’t. If he knew. It makes kissing him a lie and Zachary doesn’t know how he’s supposed to be forgiven for that.

 

Talking would be a start, probably, but the thought alone is enough to make him kiss Will with even more urgency.

 

They can’t talk if they kiss.

 

“You smell disgusting.” Zachary mumbles because at some point he needs to pull back for air and saying this is easier than voicing the thoughts that kept him up all night. He wrinkles his nose at his boyfriend’s morning breath.

 

“Fuck you.” Will chuckles, but he does pull back a little, trying to untangle himself from Zachary.

 

“Stay.”

 

Zachary internally curses the urgency in his voice, the hint of desperation he’s sure Will can’t even hear. He wraps his arms around Will from behind, who made it into a sitting position, pressing his face to his neck.

 

He’s overcome by the intense need to be closer to Will, as close as he can, to make up for last night, make up for it all. It’s like a push and pull inside him, that has him caught in between. One second Zachary can’t get close enough and the next  he feels like the simplest touch is just another thing adding to this lie he created by not telling Will the truth immediately after it happened. After he came back to join the team at the fan meet, on the way back to the van, before Will had gotten drunk, he should have just told him, consequences be damned, just be honest, put it all on the table and wait for Will’s reaction, for Will’s choice.

 

Would be more fair, right?

 

Zachary doesn’t know. All he knows is that right this second he doesn’t want Will to leave, wants to keep his arms around him, his lips on his. Because some irrational part of him fears that if Will leaves, he’s not coming back. Which is bullshit of course. He’s just going to the bathroom.  It’s nothing. It’s fine.

 

“You can shower later.” He mumbles.

 

“I know.” Will yawns. Zachary can feel his breathing against him, the way his ribcage expands, deflates, expands. It doesn’t match the quick beating of his own heart. “I was actually going to throw up and brush my teeth? Preferably in that order but...ya know...not making any promises.”

 

“Will.” Zachary pleads even though he’s not sure if he has any follow up to that.

 

“Zachary.” Will echoes dryly and glances over his shoulder at Zachary. He waits. Zachary opens his mouth. He doesn’t know what to say. Will waits. One moment, another. Then he turns away and Zachary can hear him sigh.

 

“Zach-”

 

“It’s nothing.” Zachary cuts him off. He can feel panic rising up in his chest so he looks down quickly. There’s his phone on the nightstand.

 

_Oh right._ He turned it off at one point last night because he was scared the buzzing of the incoming texts would wake Will.

 

Will clears his throat. “Okay.”

 

The tone in his voice is kind of unnerving, something Zachary isn’t really used too, not paired with that look on his face . Not like he’s mad, but somewhere half way there, between impatient, confused and hurt. And that’s scary because Will doesn’t get mad, not seriously, not at Zachary. Sure sometimes Meteos acts it up a bit, going on about how Sneaky saying same when it doesn’t fit pisses him off or shit like that, but never like it’s real. And never Will.

 

He is halfway to the door when Zachary finds it in himself to move. The floor feels unnaturally cold underneath his bare feet as he pats over to Will, who is frowning slightly at him.

 

He can’t leave like this, can’t walk out on Zachary with this look in his face, maybe, probably, potentially kinda mad at him. Zachary can’t stand that, can’t let Will do that. So he reaches out for him, brushes his fingers over Will’s naked skin, with words playing on repeat in his head that Will told him even before they’ve gotten together.

 

Will’s mom always told him to never leave angry, to never walk out mad, and if you have to, at least kiss, at least make sure the other person knows that despite whatever’s going on, you still love them. Zachary isn’t sure if they are fighting right now or if Will even _is_ angry at him but he feels like he needs to do this, needs to let Will know that he cares for him. And maybe, maybe he needs the confirmation for himself too.

 

He kisses Will, has to get on his tiptoes a bit because Will is barely leaning in but he just has to, has to do this. Has to feel Will’s lips, has to taste them, has to feel the pang of guilt in his stomach and the warm fuzzy feeling Will’s kisses always used to give him, at the same time. He just has to, because for some inexplicable reason it makes everything clearer, as clear as anything could be. _Zachary can’t believe he did this._

 

He can’t believe he fucked up this badly. He can’t believe that his heart is beating like this when he’s just looking at this boy and he still willingly, consciously betrayed him this way.

 

He can’t believe he was selfish and stupid enough. But there’s no way out now.

 

When Zachary closes his eyes he can still taste her lipgloss on his lips even though, rationally thinking that might just be his bad conscience. When he’s kissing Will, that’s all he can taste.

 

“I like like you.” he whispers, his eyes still closed, but they snap open instantly, finding Will staring at him.

 

The words slipped out just as he had pulls back for air and damn, Zachary wishes he’d bitten his tongue, because, yeah sure, first there’s the instinctive surprised happiness that those words usually draw from Will, but not for long. It gets quickly replaced by a look of bewilderment that flashes over Will’s face and that’s not good.

 

Not good at all.

 

The thing is, they don’t say ‘I love you’.

 

Or rather Zachary doesn’t. The thought of it, feels foreign to him. Always has, he can’t help it. Saying it would feel wrong, not because the feelings aren’t there, because maybe, probably they kinda are, but because it feels too grown up, like he’s pretending to be something he’s not.

Zachary still remembers the one time Will had said it and Zachary for the lack of something better and appropriate to say had replied with a very irritating thank you that had left them both feeling awkward for days afterwards.

 

So. No I love yous. It’s just another one of their antics and Zachary is fine with that, has been for a long time but at one point he had started to feel the need to express this mess of feelings he felt inside his chest, somehow towards Will, so one evening that had involved lots of alcohol and a thrilling search for the most hilarious porn titles, they had decided on, instead of saying _the_ L-word they would say a different L-word.

 

And thus ‘I like like you’ had been born. Because a simple ‘I like you’ hadn’t felt like enough.

It was pretty lame but it was them and Zachary loves it even though he doesn’t say it often.

 

He’s not sure if he’s said it at all so far this split.

 

His face flushes and Will turns around, slipping quickly through the door, leaving Zachary standing there, frozen on the spot.

 

_He hasn’t said it back._

_He hasn’t said it back._

 

Oh god.

 

For a moment Zachary hovers in front of the door, hand just above the doorknob before he, instead of going after Will, wanders back towards the bed.

 

Will’s jeans are still lying where he took them off last night. Zachary picks them up and fishes the phone out of it, so it doesn’t fall out of the pocket as he hangs it over the back of his chair.

 

He presses the button on the side of Will’s phone, makes the screen light up. There’s an alert for one one text message from Will’s mom on screen, probably congratulating him on the win. Nothing else. Zachary presses his lips together, then puts the phone down on the nightstand next to his own.

 

He hesitates for a  moment before sitting down on the bed, tugging his legs up with him before grabbing his phone, switching it back on. It seemingly takes forever to boot back up  even though Zachary knows that technically it’s probably not even a minute.

 

_12 missed messages. One missed call._

 

Zachary takes a deep breath. It’s an unknown number. Except that it’s not. Zachary knows it. He deleted it a year ago from his phone, but there it is.

 

He ignores the texts from last night, instead skips to the most recent ones from this morning.

 

_From: unkown_

_Hey :)_

 

_From: unkown_

_Still thinking about yesterday. What does this mean?_

 

What does this mean?

 

Nothing. It means nothing. Zachary wants to yell, wants to scream. Because it doesn’t. It doesn’t mean a thing. A mistake. It was a mistake. Nothing more, nothing less. Bad enough.

 

_From: unkown_

_Zachy?_

 

_From: unkown_

_Are you ignoring me??_

 

Zachary has to close his eyes for a moment. He fucked up so badly. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and Zachary cannot understand, refuses to try to recall, why he had been so stupid, so unbelievably stupid. And now it’s all screwed up.

 

He doesn’t know how to act around Will and that used to be the most natural thing in his life. Can’t talk to him, not really. The words, if there ever were any, get stuck in his throat. He can’t even text. Doesn’t know what to answer to any of those messages.

 

Yes.Yes he’s ignoring her. No, it didn’t mean anything. Fuck yes he’s still thinking about yesterday but probably not the way she’d like him to.

Maybe. He doesn’t know. He actually has no fucking clue about how the hell _she_ feels about the whole thing.

 

_From: unkown_

_Do you like the hickey? <3_

 

That fucking bitch.

 

He types out an answer. Almost sends it. He deletes it. Deletes the next one too, his thumb hovering over the screen. He tries one more time but the blank screen is staring accusingly back at him so tosses the phone away. It bounces on the mattress almost falls of the edge of the bed but in the end it doesn’t, ends up just lying there, Zachary watching it  until the screen turns black.

 

From his bed, with the curtain open like this, Zachary can look across the yard into Will’s room. It’s empty of course.

 

He remembers when they did the hyper X gaming house tour and Will had jokingly said they had chosen the rooms like this so Will could look at Zachary while lying in bed because he couldn’t fall asleep otherwise.

 

The truth is Will can fall asleep just about everywhere at anytime no matter what, but Zachary still remembers the times in the old apartment before they were together where the two of them shared that tiny room where their beds were pushed so closely together it might as well have been one bed.

He remembers having endless conversations his best friend about everything and nothing at all in the dark.

 

Why did he have to switch on the light last night? Maybe, just maybe, if he’d just slipped into bed with Will, lights out, just the two of them in the dark, maybe he would have found the words then, would have found a way to tell the truth.

 

He rolls over, so he can reach the phone, carefully unlocking it, sitting up so he faces the wall, while opening the folder with text messages.

 

Delete, delete, delete.

 

He’s at the sixth message when the door suddenly opening makes him jump a little.

 

Will’s eyes follow the quick motion of Zachary quickly tossing his phone aside on instinct but he simply raises an eyebrow, ruffling his wet hair with one hand.

“What’s up?” he does ask eventually, casually nodding towards the phone.

 

“Bubble witch saga 2?” Zachary more or less suggests and thankfully Will nods, taking it for whatever it is. Zachary can barely hear anything over the sound of rushing blood in his ears.

 

Will is rummaging through one of the drawers from the sideboard and Zachary silently watches, before awkwardly clearing his throat.

 

“You showered?” he asks even though the answer is quite obvious but the silence is killing him, “I thought teeth brushing and potentially vomiting was the plan?”

 

“Ah well.” Will shrugs. “You know, still had that dried come one me so...” he trails off, giving Zachary something resembling a smile. “I gotta go to my room. Don’t have any clean shirts here it seems.”

 

“Don’t.” Zachary blurts out.

 

Something about the way Will said it makes Zachary’s stomach coil and before he can think of anything else he’s up on his feet again, hurrying to crush their lips together in something that might be a kiss if Will were participating properly and Zahcary wasn’t feeling that goddamn urgency in each of his own movements, the desperation to do just _something._ To fix this, to make it up to Will, to himself.

 

When Will starts kissing back, Zachary almost sighs with relief but instead he lets his hands roam over Will’s still naked chest. The skin still feels smooth under Zachary’s fingers despite the few hairs that have found their way there over the past two years.

 

If you don’t look closely, Will hasn’t changed that much, but he has, Zachary sees it. He himself though, he still looks the same. Still short, still not a skinny as Hai, not as lean as Will. Still same old Sneaky.

 

He hates it sometimes, looking in the mirror, while sometimes he doesn’t care at all. It depends on the day really.

 

Growing up, from teenager to something that probably is pretty close to an adult, it’s so weird in Zachary’s eyes. Especially since he’s pretty sure their maturity level is somewhere around those of twelve year olds most of the time. The thing is he doesn’t mind. And neither does Will. It’s who they are.

 

But they _are_ growing up. And when the fuck did that happen?

 

He can taste tooth paste in Will’s mouth and he wonders if it’s this, what adults do. Not the kissing and having sex part. High teenage pregnancy stats prove that teenagers do have the whole sex things down to a certain point; the pretending nothing is wrong and just going on, ignoring feeling shitty, putting someone else first. Because that’s what he’s doing, right?

 

If he says something it’ll just unnecessarily hurt Will even more, right?

 

He’s doing the grown up thing here? Isn’t he? Keeping quiet, not telling the truth. Confessing, lightening his conscious, it wouldn’t serve Will any good. Or Zachary. Or the team.

 

It’s the right thing.

 

It’s a mess.

 

But god it makes him feel like shit. One second he’s fine, one second he’s sure he can do this, like right now, with Will’s tongue in his mouth and his hand in his hair. But the next moment nothing is fine, the next moment he sees the look in Will’s eyes, the smile on his lips and he just feels like the worst human being on earth.

 

Will’s arms wrap around Zachary and usually it would bother him, make him feel small and all that but right now it’s okay, he’s just glad that Will does, kiss him, touch him. He needs this.

 

The skin of Will’s throat feels hot underneath lips, but before he can go any further in any way, there’s a loud knock on the door followed by it immediately being slammed open.

 

Zachary takes a step back, untangling himself from Will, who looks a little flustered, frowning at the door, probably thinking the same as Zachary. How it makes no sense to knock when you aren’t going to wait for an answer anyway.

 

Zachary crosses his arms and looks away, meanwhile Will, still shirtless, clears his throat.

 

“Uh.” Daerek’s eyes dart back and forth between them until they eventually settle on Zachary. He scratches his beard. “Listen guys, I know it’s already like 11 am, but Danan’s girl made some waffles and-” he pauses “Did I- I did interrupt something, didn’t I?”

 

Zachary sighs, running his fingers through his fringe, while Will rolls his eyes.

 

“Yes. Lemon. You interrupted a very intense discussion about Amélie Nothomb’s ‘The Character of Rain’. Have you read it? Would you like to join in? Zachary has some really compelling thoughts regarding chapter 2. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

 

“Oh yeah.” Zachary pulls a face at the nickname “so compelling. Very deep. You should definetly stay, and discuss it. With us. Right now.”

 

“Ookay.” Daerek raises both eyebrows. “I, will go eat waffles now, so… bye.”

 

The door falls shut and Will turns to Zachary. They could go right back to kissing, they have, often enough after interruptions in the past but this time they don’t. Instead Will sits down on the bed, putting on his glasses, which looks just a little bit ridiculous since he’s still not wearing a shirt. Zachary would lend him one of his but the truth is they probably won’t fit. Too short, most likely.

 

“Do you…” Zachary hesitates, the atmosphere has shifted. Or maybe it has been like this the whole time and he just distracted himself and Will with the making out. He doesn’t like this. It makes the feeling of guilt inside his chest expands, makes him feel like he has to say something, despite still not knowing what or how. “Do you want to grab some of these waffles?” he asks instead, but Will shakes his head.

 

“No. Not really.” Will says, then  pauses, looks at Zachary for a long time, causing him to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “Zach…”

 

“Yes?” it comes out sounding more meek than intended and Zachary tries to cover it up by a weak laugh but Will doesn’t really react.

 

“Hey, is everything alright?” Will asks, glancing up at Zachary, who is still standing there, because to be honest, he’s not sure what to do with himself.

 

Is he supposed to sit down too? On the bed? On his chair? Keep standing?

 

“Like between us?” Will continues and Zachary can literally feel his heart sinking.

This is it. God, is this it?

 

“I know, I’ve been,” Will looks thoughtful like he isn’t sure what words to use either. “I could have been...a better boyfriend? Over the last weeks?”

 

Zachary wants to hide his face in shame. He wants nothing more than to make Will shut up, make him stop saying those thing before it will turn into the apology Zachary can already see it becoming because no, no. That’s so wrong.

 

He can’t have Will be sorry when it’s him, when it’s Zachary who should be begging the other boy for forgiveness right now. Sure things have been a little strained lately and Zachary had felt lonely and yes, yes maybe that had been the start of everything, had lead Zachary to send that god forsaken first text to her, but it’s no excuse, no fucking excuse.

 

“Will, don’t, I-” Zachary tries to say but the words get stuck in his throat and he finds himself unable to take a step towards Will.

 

“Yesterday was…” Will ignores it, pauses, but doesn’t look at Zachary. “I want to do better, okay? Like the whole talking thing and shit.” now he does look at Zachary and Zachary is not sure what to make of that look on his face. “We gotta start doing that. Okay?”

 

“Will…” Zachary begins but still, fucking still, he doesn’t have any follow up and soon the somewhat expectantly expression on Will’s face is gone again. Replaced by something else, something Zachary isn’t sure he wants to think about for too long. It’s gone after a second though and Will puts on a smile, clearing his throat.

 

“So listen I’ve been thinking,” he says getting up, walking towards Zachary, that easy smile on his lips, “Like, once playoffs are over and we got some off time, I know we’ve talked about it, like spending time with each other during the break like we did during the off-season, but-”

 

Zachary knows where this is going. Remembers the conversation at the beginning of the season, Will casually mentioning that his mom would like to meet Zachary some time. Not that she hasn’t met him before, but before has always been just as Will’s friend, as his teammate.

Now she wants to meet him as her son’s boyfriend and yeah sure, that’s cool, right? Will’s mom is nice, she’s kind and as far as Zachary has seen or rather heard she’s pretty chill about the whole her son being with a guy thing.

 

Will’s dad is a different story. Will said his dad probably still counts on the whole gay thing being a ‘phase’ or something but Will never seemed to bothered by that, so Zachary never really asked on how he knew or how Will had told his father, since they didn’t have a lot of contact since Will and his brother live or rather lived, with their mom. They aren’t divorced. Just separated, taking a break or something.

 

It’s not something Zachary likes to talk about, is the thing. Family and all that. Will is aware of that. It’s not that it’s complicated really so Zachary doesn’t spend much time dwelling on it.

 

He loves his little sister Emma, of course he does. She’s an angel and she used to send him a lot of texts, send him pics of her in a c9 shirt and all that. She adored her big brother like their mother had put it, sounding less than happy about that fact.

 

But his parents are different. His mom always wanted a girl so ever since Emma had been born she had been number one priority for her.

 

And that’s fine. Zachary gets that. Emma is cute and smart and she’s doing very well in school, last time he heard. And it’s not that he’s jealous of his little sister, that would be fucked up. But it’s a fact that last time he was home over the holidays and his aunt had asked  ‘what was it again that you do zachary? College?’ his father hadn’t let Zachary answer. He hadn’t let him explain that yes he’s really playing video games for a living, and no that doesn’t mean he’s one of those guys living in a basement getting fat from eating nothing but donuts and never having any real life interactions ever.

 

His father had deflected the question with a smile had said something vague about Zachary working with computers, still finding himself, all that. And his mother had just nodded, casually mentioning Emma coming second place at the last science fair at her school.

And Zachary had said nothing. Because really what was there to say. His dad isn’t proud of him. His mother doesn’t care. It’s fine.

 

Zachary doesn’t think they’ve ever watched a whole game of Zachary playing, except when Emma nagged them about it long enough.

 

So, there isn’t really a real reason why Zachary hadn’t told them about his relationship yet. He still remembers how disappointed his mom had sounded on the phone when he had told her that he’d broken it off with Jenabella. Which had been weird to Zachary at the time because his mom had never liked his relationship with her. Mostly due to Jenabella being over thirty. After that phone call Zachary had felt more than just a little awkward, unsure why he’d called in the first place.

 

If Zachary thinks about it now, it probably doesn’t matter whether his parents know about Will or not. They won’t care either way. Probably just another topic to evade at christmas. Huray.

 

“I talked to her a couple of days ago” Will continues watch Zachary closely. “My mom I mean. And I told her we would come because you know, that’s what we agreed on...but,” he hesitates and Zachary looks at his feet. “But if there’s a reason I should tell her no, that we aren’t- You gotta tell me, Zach. If there’s a reason you don’t want to go, why we shouldn’t- you gotta tell me.”

 

Zachary swallows, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. He’s not sure what Will is saying, what he’s asking. It feels like there is more to it, it feels like Will knows something, or maybe it’s just Zachary reading into things. Maybe it’s just his own bad conscience making him paranoid.

 

Maybe it’s just Will, getting cold feet? Maybe Will doesn’t want Zachary to meet his mother?

But maybe not.

 

“Sure.” Zachary says quickly. “Why would I chicken out? Like, I’m not you, dude.” he weakly jokes. “It’s totally cool.”

 

Will looks like he’s about to reply something, whether it’s a joke in return or something entirely different, Zachary can’t tell, but when suddenly Zachary’s phone buzzes all that comes out is a toneless, flat “Right.”

 

It buzzes once, twice, where it’s lying on the nightstand, then it’s still again. Will looks at it for a moment, then at Zachary.

 

“Right. So. I still need a shirt.” he says but it sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to Zachary.

 

He’s  looking a little unsure then and Zachary can’t help but be a little surprised, when Will presses a short kiss to Zachary’s lips. He pulls back and for a moment they are barely inches apart, Will’s hand is at Zachary’s collar, then at his neck, gently touching, barely there.

 

His forefinger brushes over where Zachary knows the hickey is.

 

 

***

 

 

“Oh hi.” Hai looks surprised as he opens the door to Will’s room, finding Will lying on his unused bed, looking at the ceiling silently. “I thought you were-” he gestures vaguely  in the direction of Zachary’s room and Will shakes his head.

 

Nope. He’s not with Zachary right now. Obviously.

 

Hai seems confused by that. So is Will. but he’s also confused by Hai just barging into his room when he clearly did not come here expecting Will to be there.

 

“I was just-” Hai walks in, closing the door behind himself, “I have some candy stored away here and-”

 

“Why the fuck do you store candy in my room?” Will asks and Hai shrugs.

 

“Well you are barely in here  and the others obviously won’t steal it from here since they don’t suspect it being here so...”

 

Sounds reasonable, Will guesses. He doesn’t have the energy to think about his teammates’ weird antics any further right now so he decides to just let it go, letting his head drop back onto the pillow. He just needs time to think. Or rather not to think. Just time to shut everything out for a while.

 

Since he has woken up this morning, his thoughts have been racing and for maybe the first time in his life Will truly understood why people become alcoholics. Why his dad had started to drink more than just the casual glass of whiskey in the evening after things with Will’s mom had started to go downhill.

 

It makes things easier. Last night he just ignored Zachary acting weird, just went with it, with Zachary not wanting sex, with Zachary not talking, with the lame excuses.

 

It all had seemed weirdly okay last night. Or rather he had pretended it was okay. Had decided it was.

 

It is not anymore. Not in the light of day. And Zachary’s behaviour from this morning had only reaffirmed the uneasiness Will felt.

 

“Are you alright?” Hai asks quietly and it’s only then that Will realizes Hai hasn’t left the room yet, is still hovering next to the door, looking almost as unsure as Will feels.

 

He’s half inclined to just brush it off to put on the same smile he had given Zachary earlier, pretending things are fine but he can’t, he doesn’t have it in him right now so instead of a simple “Yeah” or “Don’t worry”, what comes out is a soft sigh, followed by hiding his face behind his hands. He’s not even sure what exactly is wrong, or maybe he is, he just doesn’t want to. The specifics hurt too much. But he knows that something _is_ wrong.

 

“Meteos?” Hai asks and his voice sounds closer. He’s sat down on Will’s desk chair, having rolled over so he’s basically sitting next to Will, who’s still lying on his bed.

 

“I…” Will licks his lips, swallows, there’s a lump in his throat. “I was being serious you know? I meant it.”

 

He glances at Hai who, understandably, looks a little confused.

 

Will sighs. It’s weird saying this outloud to Hai, not to Zachary. “About the hickey. I wasn’t talking shit. I...i don’t remember making it. I really don’t.” He laughs weakly, rubbing his hands over his face.

 

“What d-” Hai seems confused, still, for a few seconds then something changes and oh, Will remembers that feeling, wonders if his face showed the same expression. “...Meteos....”

 

His voice sounds pained and god, this _is_ fucking painful.

 

Will wishes the confusion back onto Hai’s face, wishes Hai’d have some weirdly rational explanation for it, one that Will has failed to come up with so far. He wishes Hai would tell him that the conclusion they both jumped to is wrong, is too far fetched. That it doesn’t make sense.

 

The problem is that it does and apparently Hai agrees.

 

“It’s nothing.” Will says nevertheless and he can’t quite keep the hopelessness out of his voice. “It’s like- It’s nothing. Hai. It’s nothing, right? People forget shit all the time. So.”

 

“Yeah.” Hai says after a moment. “Yeah they do. They totally do.” But it doesn’t bring relief, doesn’t make anything better. It makes it hurt even more.

 

Will closes his eyes, he can’t look at Hai right now, doesn’t want to see the look on his face. He feels so ashamed, humiliated. It’s irrational and stupid he knows, but he can’t help it.

 

It could make sense, Will would be willing to believe it, to just go with it, assume he just forgot giving his boyfriend a freaking hickey. If it was the only thing. The only fact that doesn’t quite add up. Problem is, it’s not.

 

Will tries to smile “..except that he’s been...he’s been acting all weird yesterday, too.”

 

“Hey,” Hai says with a weird kind of urgency “Hey, you guys are always weird, yeah? Doesn’t mean anything.”

 

_Yeah._ Will wants to say. Yeah they are, it’s true. Except that they aren’t, not to each other. But yesterday Zachary was weird. On more than just one level, no matter what Hai or the others might say.

 

“Not like this.” Will whispers more to himself than to Hai. “He’s been on his phone, when I came back from the shower this morning and-”

 

“People are on their phones all the time, it’s the 21st century.” Hai argues and yes that’s true too.

 

Will nods but it’s also true that this doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change that Zachary had tossed the phone away like it had burned him as soon as Will had come in. It doesn’t change that the phone had kept buzzing and buzzing last night while Will had pretended to be asleep until Zachary had switched it off eventually without reading any of the incoming messages.

 

And it doesn’t change that this morning after showering, when Will had somehow managed to accidently knock over the laundry basket he had found Zachary’s shirt from yesterday there with something on the collar that looked suspiciously like-

 

“Meteos.”

 

Will is half startled by the hand suddenly on his shoulder. Hai is looking at him intently. “Will. Listen to me. Whatever it is, if it _is_ anything, I’m pretty sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, okay? But-”

 

“But?”

 

“It can wait.” Hai says. And Will realizes that this, this right now, this is not his friend Hai he’s talking to. That’s shot-caller Hai, team captain Hai speaking. Firm and sure, not allowing any talk back. What he says is what they do.

 

Will feels his chest tighten.

 

“Push it back.” Hai continues. “ Ignore it. You said it’s nothing. Treat it like that. Concentrate on the game. We got playoffs, you understand that. Playoffs go first. It _has_ to be our number one priority. So just-” he falters a bit and a somewhat sad smile finds its way on Hai’s face. “I’m sure it’s fine anyway, okay?”

 

“He said ‘I like like you’. This morning.” Will says and to be perfectly honest he feels like crying. He hopes Hai can’t tell.

 

“I...I don’t know what that means.” Hai  points out and Will lets out a short humourless chuckle.

 

“We don’t- he doesn’t say ‘I love you’. That’s...it’s just not ‘us’.” Will explains. “Instead we say  ‘i like like you’ it’s pretty stupid and shit but- Fuck. Even that is just I don’t know like once a month or something and he-”

 

“Meteos.” Hai cuts Will’s rambling off. “Playoffs.”  

 

That is all he says.

 

“Yes.” Will says and all he can think about is Zachary saying, with that unconvincing smile on his face that sure it would be cool to meet Will’s mother during the break because what reason would there be for that not happening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this and ae a little curious how things will progress.  
> Please leave a comment so I know you care :)
> 
> Btw I promise next chapter will be longer and have smut.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter has quite some smut. so yeah. i hope you like it :)

Despite it being late Saturday evening the restaurant isn’t packed full, but somewhere between half empty and busy, which is actually nice. The chatter surrounding them isn’t too loud and they haven’t been approached yet by any fans. Today Will counts that as a win. He actually doesn’t mind fans. Most of the time, it’s quite flattering. But right now, with his team surrounding him and his mood stuck somewhere between bad and _yay-food_ , he’d prefer to not have to fake a smile and excitement for anyone.

 

Zachary is seated across from him, with Daerek to his left side. Jack, who is next to Will, is fully engrossed in a discussion with the two of them. They are talking about something patch-notes related, with Charlie occasionally throwing in his opinion.

 

Hai, An and Danan are caught up in conversation too, and it’s not like Will can’t think of ways to find an engage to both of these discussions but he’s not really in the mood. Instead, he is just absentmindedly toying with one of the decorative articles on the table, silent, waiting for someone to come and take their orders.

 

He feels tense, has been for the past days. Avoiding Zachary during the day as well as he can, not saying much, thinking even less, trying to concentrate on the game like Hai asked him too, it’s been hard. But also awfully familiar in a strange way too. Almost like he’s falling back into old patterns.

 

Everything is just a little bit off and it makes Will feel more and more on edge each day.

 

He watches Zachary laugh about something and then, by habit, Zachary’s glance shifts, flickering to Will for the fraction of second. Usually Will loves these little things. Zachary once explained it to him, months ago, that whenever someone tells a joke, says something funny, something Zachary can laugh about, he automatically turns to Will, turns to check if Will found it funny too. He’d put it off as something ridiculous something without any meaning but to Will it had meant the world even though he hadn’t said so of course.

 

This time, Zachary glancing at him like that, from across the table, it doesn’t make Will happy. Somehow it only seems to emphasize the distance between them.

 

There ae so many things going on in his head right now, so many things to be upset about, but adding to the general mess of a situation Will finds himself and his relationship in at the moment, he also feels a little pissed right now about stupid little things like this. The seating arrangement. While everyone else had been free to choose their chair, where they would sit, Will hadn’t been.

 

He hadn’t even planned on sliding onto the bench next to Zachary, but Jack had given him a look, had pointed at the opposite chair. It had left Will feeling like a scolded school boy, to be assigned a seat, for him to behave or something. He gets it. They aren’t at home. They are in public. Blabla. He’s used to this and usually he doesn’t mind as much, doesn’t let it bother him, but today it just feels like the icing to the cake.

 

He isn’t stupid, is he? So why are people insisting on treating him that way?

 

Jack should know, that Will _knows_ by now that he doesn’t get to sit next to his boyfriend in public. He should know that Will would pick a different seat on his own. He should know that Will got the rules down by now. Whether he likes them or not.

 

So will is sulking. In a very dignified and manly way of course. Not that anybody notices.

 

Zachary isn’t looking at him. Even when Daerek makes him laugh again, his eyes stay focused on him, while all Will can think about is how he wanted to kiss Zachary last night but instead had rolled over onto his other side so they had been lying back to back. Inches apart. And Zachary had let him, hadn’t reached out either.

 

He thinks about that hickey, too. It’s pretty faded already but still, he caught Zachary covering up with a bit off makeup in front of the bathroom mirror before they had left for the restaurant today.

 

When Will looks at Zachary now, it’s like it isn’t even there.

 

“Zachary.” Jack says louder and for some reason it makes Will look at him too. Their manager is giving Zachary a pointed look. “She asked what you’d like to drink.”

 

It’s only then that Will, and apparently Zachary too, notices the waitress that’s standing behind Will, her notepad in hand looking at Zachary expectantly. She smiles. Her lips are red with lipstick and her earrings sparkle in the light.

 

“Uh.” Zachary looks at her for a moment and Will tries not to feel the twist in his stomach when Zachary’s eyes dart lower for a split second.

 

“A beer please.” Zachary says, looking back up at her face.

 

While the waitress turns to look at Will, ready to take his order, Will tries his hardest to tell himself that it’s nothing. That it doesn’t mean anything, that it’s completely natural for Zachary to look, for his eyes to linger a second, maybe two, on the deep neckline of the waitress’ blouse.

 

He tells himself that it’s alright, that this kinda thing never bothered him before, because they are guys and what the hell, if there are boobs basically in your face of course you look.

 

“Same.” Will manages to say.

 

It doesn’t mean anything.

 

“Me too. A beer.” He corrects himself, clearing his throat. The look in Zachary’s eyes is something between guilty, embarrassed and, stubborn, letting Will know that Zachary noticed him noticing.

 

This would be the right moment for a joke, some low  quality comment, but Zachary just presses his lips together, looking at him, and Will notices the way Zachary’s hand twitches on the table, almost like he wants to reach out, but with them being in public, with Jack right next to Will, and Charlie and Danan and the rest of the team present, there is no way he can. He can’t. Will knows that. But Zachary doesn’t even try.

 

Will looks away.

 

At some point the waitress returns to bring them their drinks and Will wants to look away when she leans forward to place Zachary’s beer in front of him, tries to ignore how her cleavage must look from his perspective, but he can’t, he sees  Zachary’s eyes flickering down, just for a split second and god it’s nothing, it really is, but Will downs almost half of his beer before she’s even 3 steps away from the table, earning a worried look from Zachary and a laugh from Daerek and Hai.

 

But again, Zachary doesn’t say anything, just takes a sip from his own beer, turning his head to presumably continue his conversation with Daerek. So Will remains quiet too.

 

He’s quiet when he silently slips off one of his sneakers under the table. He’s quiet when he starts gently rubbing his foot up and down Zachary’s calf. He’s quiet when Zachary jumps at that, looking at him with wide eyes but not saying anything.

 

Of course he’s not saying anything.

 

Why would he? It’s nothing. Nobody can see, nobody knows, it’s not in public, is it? Technically.  And it’s not like Will is doing anything. Zachary shifts uncomfortably, throwing Will a glance, before trying to get back into the conversation with his teammates.

 

Will takes another gulp from his beer, eyes not leaving Zachary even though the other boy is no longer looking at him, while sliding his foot up higher Zachary’s leg, up to his inner thighs.

 

Zachary tenses and his eyes flicker to Will. Will just keeps his lips pressed together tightly, silently daring Zachary to say something, to react in some way, while his foot comes to a halt right there on Zachary’s crotch, right between his legs.

 

Zachary does react. His breath hitches and the muscles in his thighs twitch. Will can see Zachary’s grip around his beer tightening for a second. It’s good, but it’s not enough.

 

He can hear the voice of the waitress taking the order from the table next to them.

 

Will presses down, begins to move, rubbing Zachary through his jeans with his foot. He’d prefer it being his hand but there’s no way of that happening with them sitting across from each other and like this he can see Zachary’s face. Like this he can see the blush creeping on Zachary’s face, can see the way he clenches his jaw and keeps trying to look away from Will but failing.

 

Zachary has to bite his lip and Will can feel him getting hard.

 

It’s been awhile since they’ve done this, stuff in semi-public, risky, reckless. Will feels the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His eyes flicker to Jack next to him, to Hai, and it fills him with grim satisfaction, because yeah sure they don’t sit next to each other, they don’t talk, they are behaving, they are doing how they are told and still, they  can do this, right here, right now, without them knowing.

 

It feels like nothing else exists, not the days before, not the days that are to come, not the last game day, not play offs, it’s just Will’s foot between Zachary’s thighs and the beating of his own heart in his chest.

 

Zachary takes another sip from his beer, his hand almost steady. He glances at Will, his lips shiny with drops of liquid, red from biting them, it makes Will’s breath hitch. He presses down, strokes, as well as he can in this position, feeling the heat rising in his own cheeks.

 

 “Sneaky?” Daerek cuts in suddenly, causing Will to momentarily freeze. But just for a second. “You want some bread?”

 

Zachary coughs, looking over at him, his eyes just the slightest bit glazed.

 

“What?” he asks and Will can’t help but smile to himself at the way Zachary’s  voice cracks.

 

“I asked, do you want some bread?” Daerek repeats the question, frowning at Zachary, “Are you okay man?”

 

Will smirks and presses down, causing Zachary to gasp, he masks it with another cough. “I- …It’s kinda… hot in here, don’t you think?” Zachary manages to say, accompanied by a strained smile.

 

 He’s let his hand slip under the table where it’s halfheartedly trying to push Will’s foot away, even though the both of them know that by now Zachary is too hard for it to go away on its own.

 

“Not really.” Daerek says and shrugs, but leaves it at that.

 

Zachary turns to look at Will again, his breathing going quickly even though he’s doing his best to hide it. This time Will holds Zachary’s gaze, it’s a bit like a dare and he isn’t sure who’s winning or what’s on the table, but he can feel it. It’s clear in the way  Zachary’s hand starts to push down, not away, tries to get Will moving again, chasing that sensation that makes his cock throb where it’s trapped inside his jeans.

 

 They must feel so tight by now, Will muses. Zachary doesn’t exactly wear skinny jeans but a boner is a boner and it must be uncomfortable. But also hot. In terms of arousal.

 

Will takes another sip from his beer, laughs at something Charlie said, pretending everything is normal, pretending like he isn’t basically giving his boyfriend a footjob (and isn’t that a weird word) under the table with his friends/teammates/colleagues/bosses next to him.

 

When the waitress comes back to take the order for their food, Will orders for Zachary, knows it by heart anyway, and none of them bat an eye at the way Zachary hasn’t said anything in the past minutes.

 

Will speeds up his movements, keeps them smooth but quick, as quick as he can without anyone noticing what’s going on. He presses his toes against the outline of Zachary’s hard cock and for a second Zachary’s eyes flutter shut.

 

It makes Will halt, stop for a moment, giving Zachary room to breathe. They are dancing on the edge here, he’s worried that Zachary might forget, just for a second, where they are, what exactly they are doing. An is shooting them both a weird glance and Will just smiles back, hearing Zachary clear his throat, adjusting his glasses.

 

Zachary fumbles with his phone as Will picks up movement again, slowly carefully stroking Zachary.

 

He waits, a second, maybe two, before he checks his phone.

 

[From] Sneakers

_don’t stp_

 

 

Will looks at Zachary. Zachary looks at him. Will presses down, one last time, smirks, licks his lip in an exaggerated seductive way and maybe it’s that, that first kinda-almost-half-acknowledgment of what he’s doing to him that does it for Zachary.

 

Will can pinpoint the exact moment it pushes Zachary over the edge and he comes, panting, masking it with another coughing fit, right there, inside his jeans , fast and hard.

 

“Dude.” Hai says. “Did you somehow forget how to drink beer?” 

 

Jack and Charlie chuckle. So does An. Daerek looks mildly worried and Zachary just waves them off, bright red, trying hard to look anywhere but Will, Will has retracted his foot by now, slipped back into his sneaker, doing his best impression of being worried about the sudden weird behavior of his teammate.

 

“Sneaky you look a little-“ Daerek begins but Zachary has already stood up, trying his best to scramble out of his corner without having it be too obvious that he just came in his pants.

 

“I gotta-“ he starts, clearing his throat, brushing through his fringe with his fingers “Gotta go to the bathroom real quick.”

 

He hesitates for a second, shooting Will a glance, but he knows there is no way that Will can get up and follow him right this second. Jack wouldn’t allow that. So Zachary turns on his heels, hurrying over to the men’s room, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. He feels like everybody who’s looking at him can tell what he just did, what he let Will do to him. That he liked it.

 

He slams the door shut behind himself, allows himself to rest his forehead against the cool wood for a second. His breath is coming short and ragged, returning to normal at an agonizingly slow pace. God, Will didn’t even touch him, not his skin anyway, just over the clothes, but it was enough for Zachary to still feel overwhelmed by the sensation of his orgasm.

 

He’s been so starved of touch for the past few days . It’s been so weird. Will acting like this, polite and professional, almost formal, but not quite distant either, not in the usual sense of the word anyway. He has still been slipping into bed with Zachary at night. It feels like they are caught somewhere in an inbetween state that he has yet to find a name for.

 

Most of all, they are silent. A silence that feels loud somehow. Zachary doesn’t know how to fix it, just knows that he wants to, but every time he opens his mouth he doesn’t have any words and Will, Will doesn’t ask.

 

That first morning after, Will had asked if they were oaky and Zachary had evaded the question, had talked around it, had distracted Will, himself.

 

Now he wishes Will would ask again because saying it on his own, he can’t do that.

 

He doesn’t know how.

 

He’s looking at himself in the bathroom, his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

 

He turns on the faucet, letting the cold water run through his fingers before splashing it on his face, trying to regain his composure a bit.

 

In vain as it turns out.

 

When the door is pushed open Zachary expects it to be Will, but it’s not.

 

It’s Jena.

 

Aka Jenabella. His infamous ex-girlfriend.

 

_Oh fuck._

 

Her lips curl into a smile. She closes the door behind herself, taking two steps forward, her heels clicking on the tiles.

 

Zachary doesn’t move. This feels like some twisted fucked up déja -vu.

 

“We have to stop meeting like this.” She says, winking, like she’s read his thoughts.

 

It takes Zachary longer than he’d care to admit until he finds his voice. “Fuck. This is the men’s room.” He tries, his voice still sounding a little hoarse. He hopes she won’t pick up on that. “What are- Why are you-“

 

“Relax.” Jena bats her hand nonchalantly. Like there’s no problem with that, with this situation. For some reason that makes it worse. She’s here. In this restaurant. She’s here. And so is he. And Will. And the rest of the team. And Will. And Will.

 

Zachary really wishes the ground would swallow him up right here and right now, saving him from this mess he created and regretted ever since.

 

“I am not stalking you or anything.” Jena clarifies her voice calm and even. She’s standing right in front of him now. With her heels on, she’s the same height as him. “I was on my way back from the ladies’ room when I saw you stumble in here so I thought I’d say hello.”

 

“Hello.” Zachary says dryly, hoping, praying that this poor attempt at humor might be enough, might send her on her way, but he knows better than that, knows  he’s fucked by the way she curls her lip, bats her eyelashes, throwing a glance at her reflection in the mirror.

 

Jena knows exactly what she is doing.

 

“You never answered my texts.” She says, pursing her lips.

 

“Yeah well.” Zachary crosses his arms, clears his throat. “Should be answer enough, right?”

 

He knows his voice sounds harsh, probably harsher than she deserves but he can’t stand looking at her, can’t stand looking at himself with her in that mirror.

 

How could he have been so stupid?

 

“Oh it is.” Jena agrees, letting her fingers dance over his shoulder, causing him to take another step back. “I just want you to know, that what happened there, after the game…” she tilts her head, probably enjoying the fact, that she obviously makes him uncomfortable. “It didn’t mean anything more to me than to you.” She steps back, turns her attention to the mirror, her slim fingers brushing through her hair, fixing the way it falls onto her shoulder.

 

“I don’t care.” Zachary gets out and it’s true. He doesn’t. What she thinks is not important. He fucked up, it was a mistake, texting her, calling her, letting her kiss him, kissing her back, it was a mistake. That’s what matters. He knows what it was and that it won’t happen again. End of story.

 

Jena seems to disagree.

 

“I think you do.” She shrugs, not even sparing him a glance “You do care.”

 

“Why would I?” Zachary says through gritted teeth. “It was mistake.”

 

_A mistake._ As long as he knows that nothing she can say can get to him. He just needs her to leave, stay away from him, from Will. He can’t have her here. Taunting him, mocking him. It’s causing the mess of guilt inside his chest that he had managed to almost ignore over the last days to branch out again, growing, constricting his breathing, making it hard to look anyone in the eye.

 

“See that’s the thing.” She turns to look at him. The smile gone, but her eyes are sparkling with something more, something that isn’t quite joy, but close to it. Something meaner.

 

“It was just sex. We are both adults. Even for two people who aren’t together anymore having a quickie in a public restroom is not _necessarily_ a mistake.”

 

Zachary can feel his heart hammering inside his chest, knows she’s going somewhere with this, but can’t quite figure out where yet. He clenches his hands into fists, hates feeling this helpless, unsure what to do, how to deal with this.

 

“Unless of course,” Jena continues, “There’s a third party involved.”  She makes air quote around the word involved, before pausing, looking at Zachary expectantly.

 

 When he doesn’t say anything, she sighs. Sounding like his middle school math teacher, whenever the kid she called on failed to deliver the seemingly easy answer.

 

“Unless one of these two people is in a relationship. One that’s _supposed_ to be monogamous.” She smirks and Zachary feels sick. “ _Then_ it becomes a mistake.”

 

“Jena…” he gets out, but she just shakes her head.

 

“So I assume you got some nice girl on the side the public doesn’t know about?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. Zachary doesn’t really feel like he’s part of this conversation. A part of him is just watching, scrambling around, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, how to go back in time and stop his past self from being such a goddamn idiot.

 

“I wonder why you keep it a secret though.” Jena tilts her head, her tone mocking and sweet at the same time. “You had no problem flaunting me around I remember. Is she ugly? Shy? Dumb? All of the above?”

 

“Please shut up.” Zachary snaps, finding it in himself to look her in the eyes, his voice surprisingly firm all of sudden. He knows she’s just talking like this to rile him up, to make him angry, make him admit something, drop a hint, just something, by the way she talks. She doesn’t know anything, he reminds himself. She doesn’t know that there is or isn’t a girlfriend.

 

She’s assuming, guessing.

 

She doesn’t _know._

 

But he does. Zachary knows that she’s right. At least partially. There is somebody. And that’s what makes it bad, makes it the betrayal, the mistake, that it is. What they did. What _he_ did.

 

Of course she doesn’t shut up. And he should have known that really. She’s having fun, enjoying this, he sees it in her eyes.

 

“You know I bet, if I really put my mind to it I could find out who she is.” Jena continues, unfazed by him or his words. “I could have lots of fun with that. Imagine.“

 

It’s not a threat. Not yet. Just a statement. Nothing more nothing less, but the way she says it makes Zachary’s skin crawl.

 

“I swear to god you-“

 

“Be careful what you say and what you call me.” She cuts him off “I can fuck you up.” There it is. The word sounds crude and foreign out of her mouth but the implications are clear. “You and mystery girl. And you know why?” she smirks. “Not because I want you back or because you ‘hurt my feelings’. No. Because it’s fun, Zachary. And no matter how you try to twist this to your liking, you and I both know, I’m not the whore in this scenario.”

 

Zachary opens his mouth for an answer he has yet to come up with, his cheeks burning bright with shame when the door suddenly opening, more or less saves him from having to reply.

 

Jena doesn’t turn around just chimes a quick “Occupied” the same moment Zachary’s eyes snap to the door.

 

It’s Will.

 

_Oh fuck._

 

“I can see that.” Will says, shooting Jena a quick glance before his eyes find Zachary. He frowns briefly, probably noticing his boyfriend’s obvious discomfort. But then again, who  wouldn’t feel uncomfortable being cornered by their ex in a public bathroom?

 

Will doesn’t comment, though. Instead he just turns to Jena. “You got something under that skirt we don’t know about or is there a different reason why you are in the, you know, wrong restroom, Jenabella?”

 

Jena just rolls her eyes.

 

“Look at that.” Jena says her voice dripping with mockery. “It’s dumb and dumber. Still one heart and one soul, I see.”

 

She never liked Will. The feeling was and is, for all Zachary knew, mutual. When he’d still been together with her, Will had never said something outright negative about her and after the break-up after him and Zachary had become a thing Zachary had preferred to not ask Will about his thoughts about the ex-girlfriend. And Will had never offered anything.

 

So it’s just an assumption so far, but to be honest, he might as well call it knowing. It’s quite clear now, in the way the two are glaring at each other, that there isn’t much love or even remote sympathy between the two of them.

 

“Just-“ Zachary tears his eyes away from Will to look at her again. “Just piss off Jena.”

 

She flicks her tongue, leaning against the sink, eying them both with her dark eyes, before they settle on Will.

 

 

“Meteos.” She says and fuck, there is no way she knows Will is the ‘third person involved’, but Zachary’s heart is still beating like crazy just at her addressing Will.

 

She doesn’t know and that makes it even worse, because Zachary doesn’t know if he should be relieved or worried about that fact. She doesn’t know, that whatever she says to Will can fuck it all up for Zachary, like she promised. That means she can’t do it on purpose. She might do it on accident though.  Except nothing about the way she’s looking at Will seems accidental. It’s calculated, controlled, somehow like there’s a silent conversation happening that he isn’t part of.

 

Zachary has no idea what to make of that.

 

He just stares at Jena, unable to move or say anything, he just holds his breath, waits for what happens next.

 

Will lifts an eyebrow at her.

 

“You must know her, right? Since you are Zachy’s best  best friend forever and ever.” She winks at him. “His secret girlfriend.”

 

Something that could be confusion, could be something else, flashes in Will’s eyes for a split second but it’s gone quickly, his eyes just briefly flickering to Zachary then back at Jena. He tilts his head.

 

“Oh yeah.” He says and Zachary lets out the breath he’s been holding. “She’s superhot I hear. And they are like totally in love and shit. Pretty disgusting if you ask me. Why?”

 

_Why?_

 

Zachary’s eyes snap to Jena. Why. There are a million reasons why his ex-girlfriend could ask about his supposed new secret girlfriend and Will probably doesn’t even care that much, but he still asked. An offhanded why at the end of the sentence but the damage Jena could do with it, with this invitation, none of them except maybe Zachary himself understand.

 

 And it makes him feel nauseous. He wishes Will would move, walk over, would stand next to him instead on the other side of the room with Jena between them. But he can’t really ask that without it being weird, can he? Without it giving too much away.

 

“Oh no reason.” Jena says eventually while giving Zachary a pointed look. “Just curiosity if you will.”

 

Zachary doesn’t say anything. Neither does Will, but he opens the restroom door, accompanied by an exaggerated gesture towards Jena.

 

She smiles, throws a last glance over her shoulder at Zachary.

 

“Oh, and Meteos?”

 

“Yes, Jenabella?” he says mockingly cheerful.

 

She purses her lips, “That hair is a crime against humanity.”

 

“Your face is a crime against humanity.”

 

She smiles a tight lipped smile and for a brief second Zachary has the feeling that he’s the one missing something here.  “Some money for the cab?”

 

Will doesn’t say anything.

 

Then she’s gone. Zachary takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes for a moment, before putting them back on, meeting Will’s eyes in the mirror. Will looks thoughtful.

 

“What was that about?” Will asks eventually, taking a step closer, his hand hovering above Zachary’s shoulder for a moment before actually touching him, rubbing it slightly, just a comforting gesture. It’s not much, but it’s something.

 

Zachary knows Will is not asking about that last part of the conversation, those cheap insults, but maybe he can find a way out of this through them, anyway? Maybe Will will let him.

 

 “She was just being a bitch, that’s all.” He sighs, hoping that it’ll be enough. Sometimes it is.

 

“Nothing new there…” Will  points out and for the short moment while that small smile plays on his lips and he rests his chin on Zachary’s head, Zachary almost thinks he’s gotten away with it.

 

Usually he’d jab his elbow back now, not too hard of course, getting Will to laugh, to change their position because they both know Zachary isn’t the biggest fan of Will taking advantage of being taller but right now it’s oaky. It’s oaky until, Will clears his throat. It’s Will who steps back now, allowing/prompting Zachary to turn around so they are truly facing each other.

 

“Why did she ask about the ‘girl’ you are dating?” Will asks after a pause, his hands jammed into the front pockets of his hoodie.

 

“Uh.” Zachary adjusts his glasses, trying to figure out where Will is going with this. “She was just messing with me?” He tries. It’s not even a lie. But for some reason the truth leaves a sour taste in his mouth. “Talking shit and all that.”

 

“No. No I get that.” Will licks his lips, rubbing his neck. “Why did she ask about a _girl?_ Since you are dating me. Who is, in fact, not a girl.”

 

“Well,” Zachary frowns. “But she doesn’t know that. That I’m with you. Not that you are not a girl. Obviously. So-“

 

“She doesn’t?” Will cuts Zachary’s rambling off.

 

“…no?” The _why would she_ goes unsaid. This is confusing. Not being on the same page as Will, it’s something Zachary isn’t quite used to.

 

Will seems equally irritated. “...I assumed you told her when you broke up with her.” Will mumbles and shrugs, looking down.

 

“No, why would I?” Zachary blurts out and mentally curses the words the same second they are out. The look of hurt on Will’s face feels wrong. Zachary isn’t sure he understands, but  something is going on. Judging from the past Will won’t tell him though. Zachary knows that, not unless he asks and that’s not really something Zachary does, so if he wants to know, wants to understand, he’ll have to guess, try to piece some of the puzzle pieces together by himself.

 

“I…Will,” Zachary pauses, reruns the last part of their conversation through his head again, “That doesn’t change the fact though, that I broke up with her?” he tries and the look on Will’s face tells him that he’s at least going somewhat in the right direction. “I didn’t tell her about us. But I did break up with her. For you.”

 

Will is quiet for a while and Zachary hates this weird silence between them, that thoughtful expression Will wears and the way he’s not sure if he can reach out for his boyfriend’s hand or not.

 

“Except that you didn’t.” Will says after another beat of silence. “You didn’t break up with her for me.”

 

_What._

 

Zachary is sure the confusion and irritation must show on his face, but Will doesn’t add anything not for what feels like forever, he just looks at Zachary, like he’s waiting for him to say something, but what is he supposed to say? He doesn’t know, doesn’t understand where Will is going with this, what he’s expecting from him. Of course Zachary broke up with Jena for Will? Of course he did. The fact that he didn’t tell her that it was for Will, doesn’t change that it was, does it?

 

Will lets out a short humorless laugh. “Technically, you broke up with her for Lemon.”

 

_Oh._

 

Zachary swallows. He can’t help but shift uncomfortably. This is not something they talk about often or at all really. How this thing between them started, how it went from having sex with your best friend to dumping your girlfriend so you could be in something resembling a relationship, with said best friend.

 

Zachary still remembers the awkward moment of waking up for the first time, hungover with dried come between his legs and a naked Will next to him. And he remembers what it turned into, remembers it going on for months, going out with Jena in the evening and then crawling into bed with Will at night. He remembers the excitement, the guilt, the thrill and the indescribable feeling of being wanted that much.

 

“You were perfectly fine with screwing the both of us until Lemon found out about it and told you to” Will makes quotation marks with his fingers. “ ‘to stop being a dick and man up’.”

 

Zachary also remembers the fateful day Daerek had walked in on them, Will on his knees with Zachary’s dick in his mouth. It looks like Will does too. And he is right. If it hasn’t been for that moment, for Daerek getting involved, Zachary isn’t sure how long things would have dragged on that way, would have evolved.

 

Of course Daerek hadn’t been amused by finding out two of his friends and teammates were fucking each other but he also hadn’t been in a position to do anything about it, except talking to them, talking to Will, talking to Zachary. Mostly Zachary though, since apparently him being in a relationship made him responsible.

 

Zachary remembers feeling angry and embarrassed from Daerek interfering in what he believed to be his and Will’s business and only theirs. Sure, looking back, rationally, it had been right of Daerek to ask him to get things in order, to stop messing around, for the wellbeing of the team, for his friendship with Will. And yet, back then, it had felt like an invasion of privacy.

 

Now it’s different of course. Zachary feels different about it. About a lot of things actually. If it hadn’t been for Daerek getting involved, for him having to break up with Jena, if it hadn’t been for all that he might have never gotten to call Will his boyfriend, might have never found out how it feels like to actually want to call him that. To like it.

 

It had been the right thing, but at that time Zachary hadn’t seen it that way.

 

It’s part of the reason why Zachary had chosen to never really bring this topic up with Will. And then again, Will had never asked, had he?

 

There are a lot of things Will never asked.

 

And for the most part Zachary is thankful for that.

 

“Stop.” Zachary says quietly even though Will had been silent the past moments, just waiting for Zachary to say something in return. “You never asked me to break up with Jena. You were cool with it. “

 

_With us just messing around, with us just being us._

 

_With us._

 

“Of course I was cool with it.” Will says tonelessly. “If I had asked you, you would have ended it with me. Not with her.”

 

The words obviously hurt and Zachary wishes he could deny, wishes he could tell Will that no, of course he would have. But that just wouldn’t be the truth.

 

Instead he opts for saying “You don’t know that.” Even though they both know he does. Will isn’t stupid after all.

 

This time, Will doesn’t let it go. “Am I wrong?”

 

Despite everything there is still something resembling hopefulness in his voice. It leaves Zachary without an answer. Instead he looks down on his feet.

 

“Fuck.” Will says, but it holds no force to it. “You would have. You would have picked her.”

 

“Fuck yes I would have.” Zachary snaps, staring up at Will. He’s not sure how to say any of this. He’s not used to talking about this kinda stuff. “Of course I would have picked her.” It would have been the easy option. In the beginning. “I wasn’t in love with you yet.”

 

“Yet.” Will echoes, eyes locked with Zachary’s.

 

Zachary swallows, feeling his cheeks burn. “Yet.”

 

“And now?” Will asks, taking a stop forward, looking down to Zachary, his voice barely more than whisper. “What about now?”

 

_I wasn’t in love with you yet._

 

It’s a two sided question, Zachary knows that, but the answer is the same.

 

 “You.” He replies, “Now I’d choose you. You know that.” _Please know that._

 

_But I am. Now I am._

 

_Please, please know that._

 

“Zach-“ Will begins but Zachary doesn’t let him finish, instead he leaps forward pulls Will down as well as he can by his collar to press their lips together in a short kiss, enough to make any more words unnecessary.  

 

He doesn’t know how to make Will understand with words but he knows this.

 

Will looks down on him, like he’s searching for something in Zachary’s eyes. Whatever it is, Zachary hopes he finds it as he kisses him again, this time slower, sweeter. For a short moment it doesn’t matter what he’s done, it doesn’t matter that they are in a bathroom where basically anybody could walk in any moment, that Zachary’s boxer shorts are still sticky with come. It doesn’t matter that just a few minutes ago his ex-girlfriend had been standing right here, or the million things they don’t talk about.

 

It all doesn’t matter because Will is kissing him back. And that’s what matters, because he allows Zachary to wrap his arms around him, to pull him closer and deepen the kiss, their tongues sliding against each other.

 

Zachary throws a quick glance over his shoulder before pushing Will towards one of the stalls. They got lucky far too many times today, he’s not gonna risk more than necessary. Inside, he presses Will against the closed door, kisses him as passionately as he can, feeling Will’s hands roaming hot over his back. He presses a quick kiss to Will’s neck, another to his collarbone before he lets himself drop to his knees, ignoring the way the cold tiles will probably make them ache in no time.

 

His hand immediately go to flick open the button of Will’s jeans. Will looks down on him through wide blue eyes and for a short second Zachary is scared that Will might see through him, that it’s not just Zachary having the sudden urge to suck his boyfriend off but also to get somewhere with this, that he’s trying to make Will understand without using his words, because those never obeyed him when it came to this stuff.

 

He wants Will to know that he’d choose him. That he _is_ choosing him.

 

Zachary tries to smile reassuringly even though his heart is hammering inside his ribcage like crazy. And that in itself is fucked up because he’d given Will more blowjobs than he could ever count so he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t feel like he’s having to prove something. God, he really hopes Will can’t tell.

 

He pulls down Will’s pants and boxer shorts as far as necessary, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s thigh before glancing up again for a second. Will has his hands curled into fists at his sides but Zachary knows soon enough they’ll be in his hair.

 

He gives Will’s cock a few strokes after spitting in his hand in lack of proper lubrication. It’ll just have to be enough. Will’s eyes flutter shut and a soft sigh escapes his mouth as he lets his head fall back against the stall door behind him.

 

Zachary smiles. This is good. This is what they are good at. He gives the tip of Will’s cock a tentative lick, then another, pressing his tongue to the split, drawing a silent shudder from Will. He gives him a couple of more strokes the other hand going to Will’s balls, just playing around a bit, before he takes his whole cock in his mouth , as much as he can manage on an first attempt.

 

It always takes him a bit of time to loosen up his throat, do it properly, and it’s not exactly comfortable feeling Will’s cock hit the back of his throat. When he does it right however, manages to control his own gag reflex just right at the right moment, Zachary could come from sucking Will off and from that alone. But not this time. This time he just focusses on Will, just him and his pleasure, since Zachary came already anyway.

 

He hollows his cheeks and sucks, using his tongue to give special attention to the area right underneath the head and sure enough Will’s hands fly to his hair, bury themselves there, not pushing or pulling, just there. It feels good. Zachary never liked people touching his hair, except when it’s like this. Except when it’s Will.

 

He pulls off then, looks up at Will who still has his eyes closed, before running his tongue up the underside of Will’s cock, causing the other boy to let out a strained moan, makes his thighs tremble. Zachary can’t help but smile, giving Will’s balls a last tug, fondling some more before he has to put his hands on Will’s hips for balance so he can take Will as deep as he can, as deep as possible.

 

It only takes a few moments from then for Will to come inside Zachary’s mouth, down his throat. Zachary swallows around him, drawing another few strangled gasps from him before pulling off eventually.

 

He glances up at Will who’s still breathing quickly and on a different day in a different situation Zachary would have made some joke about how it’s been him who just had a fucking dick obstructing his airway not Will. Instead he waits for Will to regain some sort of composure, taking the hand Will offers him eventually to pull him back up on his feet.

 

Zachary smiles and thank god, Will smiles back and Zachary wonders if it can always be this easy. Some half admission paired with sex and things are ok. He really hopes things can work like this, just a little while longer till things are better again , till playoffs are over and he has figured out how to ignore the fact that he cheated on his boyfriend with his fucking ex-girlfriend, because he felt lonely, and insecure and arrogant at the same time.

 

 

***

 

 

They’ve been gone for too long, Will knows that.

 

He sees the awkward way An looks at his food that has arrived in the meantime and the way Hai squints at them.  He’s very much aware of that and so is probably the rest of the team. But despite that it was obviously too much to ask though, to hope, that they’ll be allowed to just slip back into their seats, pretend they didn’t just spent a suspiciously long time together in the public restroom of a restaurant.

 

“Where were you?” asks Jack. Because of course he does. Will sighs and Zachary shifts awkwardly, stepping past Will in a wordless attempt to get back to his seat.

 

Will however, remains standing, just looking at Jack for a long while before eventually giving  the answer Jack already knows. “The restroom.”

 

“Both of you?” Jack inquires further and god damn it, this is ridiculous. Jack knows the answer, there is no point in making Will say it. It’s stupid, it’s embarrassing. Will is so fed up with this.

 

“Yeah.” He says in a clipped voice. “What’s the problem?”

 

Jack’s eyes don’t leave his but Will doesn’t want to back down. Not now. Not like this. It’s not like it’s a fight he can win but he’s tired of feeling like this. So not in control. He can’t talk to Zachary, even less than before, he doesn’t understand the weird tension he felt when walking in on Jena and Zachary, he can’t sit next to his boyfriend and even though he just felt so incredibly close to him, right now it already feels like there are miles between them again. Miles and Jack. And Jena. And that fucking table.

 

“The problem is how it looks.” Jack points out calmly.

 

“Well how _does_ it look, Jack?” Will crosses his arms. “What do you think we did in there? Enlighten me. Please. C’mon.

 

“Sit down, Meteos.” Charlie gives him an apologetic smile.

 

“No.”

 

“Will-“ Zachary tries, he’s fixing his fringe again, not looking at Will or any of the others.

 

Will presses his lips together tightly before looking at Jack again. Jena’s words play on repeat in his head, mocking him. It doesn’t make sense. Why would she just reappear like this, asking those questions, making those snide remarks. Nothing seems to be making sense.

 

_I won’t let you win._ He’d tried to forget that night, her words, her threats. And he had, hadn’t thought about it in such a long time, but there she was, reappearing, saying those things, giving him those looks.

 

She had pretended that she didn’t know about Zachary and Will’s relationship in front of Zachary. The only explanation for that, was that Zachary never told her about Will. Assuming she was still in the dark regarding the two of them, Zachary apparently had chosen to keep it that way.

 

Will isn’t sure why it stings this much, knowing Zachary never really came clean with Jena, even though technically, that had never really felt necessary. He just knows that it does.

 

Maybe Jena going on about Zachary dating a girl was just her playing along with what she assumed Zachary knew, maybe it was her mocking Will, maybe it was nothing at all.

 

Maybe the pointed look Jack is giving him is nothing either, but right this second it feels like he’s mocking Will too, controlling him, ordering him around, cornering him.

 

“No. Fuck this.” Will snaps. “It’s nobody’s fucking business what we did there. We are back aren’t we. Who cares how it-“

 

“Meteos.” Jack says firmly, probably worried how this exchange might look to an outsider, Meteos refusing to sit down, arguing with his manager while the rest of the team shows various degrees of awkwardness and embarrassment.

 

“No.” Will repeats nevertheless, shaking his head.  He can’t do much, but he can at least try. Try to fight, somehow, someone. Just fight.

 

_I won’t let you win._

 

“Maybe we went to the restroom together to fuck. Is it that what you think?” Will ignores the shocked expression on Zachary’s face, ignores the way his own  cheeks are turning red, ignores the urge to back down, just take it and be done with it. “Well maybe we did.” He continues, “But maybe we just have weirdly synchronized bowel movements and we got hung up on conversation over the current Chinese bot lane meta. Or maybe we needed to have a private chat about god knows what. Or god forbid, maybe we ran into Sneaky’s fucking ex-girlfriend. Maybe. We know. You don’t.”

 

“I’m gonna say this one more time.” Jack says and his voice is cold as ice. “Sit down, Meteos.”

 

Zachary looks away. Will scoffs, turns around and storms off.

 

Zachary is half way out of his seat when Jack gives him a pointed look and shakes his head “Sit. Hai?”

 

Hai just quickly nods, while Zachary buries his face in his hands.

 

Hai moves quickly, hurrying after Will, out of the restaurant, without drawing too much attention.

 

Will doesn’t actually knows where he is going, what his plan is here, but he knows that he couldn’t keep standing in that restaurant for another second, getting told off by Jack like a misbehaving child. A part of him is aware of the fact, that him storming off like a toddler throwing a tantrum doesn’t actually help his case, but what is done is done, so Will just lets himself sink down, sitting down on the pavement in front of the restaurant, feeling humiliated and angry at the same time.

 

Hai is close behind him, but hesitates for a moment when Will sits down.

 

“Save it, Hai.” Will snaps when Hai eventually sits down next to him on the edge of the pavement. It’s an April evening so it’s still moderately cool, but Will doesn’t care. His heart is still beating far too fast.

 

“You don’t know what I was going to say.” Hai points out and yeah, sure, maybe Will doesn’t know the exact words, but he knows enough. He knows that Hai is here because Jack or Charlie or whoever asked him to.

 

“As long as it’s team captain Hai speaking, I don’t wanna hear it.” Will says. He can hear the bitterness in his own words but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it right now.

 

Zachary never told Jenabella about them. A mysterious hickey appears on Zachary’s neck. Jenabella reappears. Mysterious bathroom conversations. Zachary making admissions he never made before. The look of guilt on his face. _I didn’t love you yet._

 

_Some money for the cab?_

 

And just like that he’d been back in their kitchen, a year ago, just him and Jena and the sharp words she spoke. The promise she made.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hai asks and Will is back in the present. He’s here. Next to Hai, after practically announcing in public that him and Zachary fucked. Just great. What was wrong with him?

 

Maybe he really is as stupid as people say.

 

“…I needed- _need_ my friend. Not my boss.”  Will gets out after a pause that was probably too long and the way Hai looks away just for a split second tells Will that of course Hai knew. Of course Hai was aware of what Will meant. He just wanted him to spell it out.

 

“I’m not your boss.” Hai argues but if he wanted to be convincing he should probably try a little harder.

 

Will fakes a laugh. Short and harsh. “Playoffs, Meteos. Playoffs.”

 

His imitation of Hai’s voice isn’t good, mediocre at best but it’s enough to make Hai look a little guilty at least, and at this point Will will take what he can get to be honest.

 

“C’mon. You are a professional.” Hai reasons, but there is also something like pleading in his eyes. “You understand how I meant that, why I-“

 

“I understand shit.” Will cuts him off. “All I understand is that I feel like _I’m_ the one lying to my boyfriend and that’s- _that’s_ fucked up.”

 

Everyone is lying to everyone. A part of Will wants to ask when that happened but deep down he knows it’s always been like this. Don’t talk. Don’t ask. Behave. Don’t make it complicated. Just function.

 

“Meteos…”

 

“Meteos. Meteos.” Will repeats in a mocking tone but honestly, he feels like crying, lets his head drop into his hands. “Stop. Stop. Just fucking stop, Hai. Please.”

 

Thankfully Hai doesn’t reply anything to that, just remains silent, allows Will to just focus on the traffic going by, on the way, the asphalt feels under his hands and the cold evening air.

 

“I fucking hate Jack so much right now.” Will says eventually into the quietness surrounding them. And it’s true, he does. Kinda. Not really. But it’s easy, to push it all on him, to make him the bad guy, to ignore everything else and just pin it on him. It doesn’t matter that Will knows there are many factors involved but he can’t stand thinking about them, isn’t allowed to talk about them, so he does what he can, hold onto to this, to this anger right now.

 

“He’s just doing his job.” Hai says quietly and Will can’t find it in himself to shake off the hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back, even though it hurts just a tiny bit that Hai is not taking his side here but instead opts to back management.

 

“Yeah. Yeah he is.” Will agrees. “And you know what?,” he smiles an unconvincing smile “At the end of the day, dear Jack gets to go home to his wife and children in his own house, his own personal space and do whatever the fuck he wants. It’s nobody’s business. And I? I do my job too. So does Zachary. We do what is asked of us. Every goddamn day.” Will feels a lump in his throat form. “But we don’t get that ‘at the end of the day’. Because- Because somehow _they_ always manage to make everything their business. I’m so- I’m so tired of this, Hai.”

 

“Hey…” Hai’s voice is soft and his eyes are full of compassion when Will finally looks at him. “Whatever it is- you… you can’t blame all of your relationship trouble on staff? I mean sure it’s tough, I get that but…ultimately it’s up to you and Sneaky isn’t it?”

 

“You don’t get it do you.” Will shakes his head, runs his fingers through his hair, just to give them something to do. “We are stuck. Me and him. And yeah fine, maybe that’s our fault. Partially. But not all of it. We are stuck in this weird pre-developmental stage of a relationship. It’s like we are fucking 15 years old, you know? Sneaking around and all that. Even though we did come clean to you guys. Not going on dates, not having time just for the two of us, except when we fuck. We are always around each other, except we aren’t because there are _rules._ Do you even understand how that feels, Hai?” he asks without really expecting an answer, because of course Hai doesn’t understand. Some days Will doesn’t even understand himself. How this has become his life. He’d just wanted things to be normal. Easy. Falling in love with your best friend was probably not the best starting point though.

 

“We are barely old enough to drink and are living in a relationship with rules dictated by our fucking employer. It’s fucked up. I don’t even know if it can be called a relationship, I mean we might as well just be fuck buddies still I-“

 

“Hey.” Hai cuts him off and for once Will is thankful for that. “I don’t know if…like…I’m probably not the person you should talk about this stuff to? Am I?”

 

Will stares at him. That’s just fucking rich. It’s not like Will doesn’t want to talk to Zachary. But he can’t. Because if he starts there is no way he can stop himself and it was Hai, Hai who told him to push it back, to ignore it. To wait. He feels like all his life people told him that.

 

“Playoffs, Meteos.” Will parrots, shaking off Hai’s hand to get up. He’s not sure what he’s doing, what he’s feeling. Just that it’s not right. None of this is.

 

“Look.” Hai gets up too, brushing off the dirt form his jeans. “From what you just said and what I’ve seen you guys have more than just the one issue so-“

 

“Oh so, let me get this straight,” Will crosses his arms. “Are you like actually giving me, permission to talk to him? Talk to my boyfriend? But what about Playoffs, Hai?  What about the team, Hai? What about-“

 

“Don’t mock me.” Hai says calmly. The quiet in his voice is unnerving. Will wishes he’d get angry, get mad, yell at Will. Show that he cares, get Will to think straight again. “I’m trying to help. I just need you to understand, because what it comes down to, _this_ is not just the relationship between two of my closest friends. It’s something that affects all of us. Not just you and Sneaky.”

 

“Well great.” Will says bitterly. “You say it like it’s- Do you even realize how that feels like having so many people involved in your relationship? It’s-“

 

“Now I don’t know what it feels like.” Hai admits, but it’s not a giving in. Not really. “But I don’t have to. Because I didn’t decide to start something with one of my teammates. You did.”

 

 

***

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment if you liked it and what you think about this <3  
> oh and don't worry. In case some of the stuff with jenabella doesn't seem to make too much sense for now, it will become clearer in the next chapter. Promise.
> 
> (all thanks as sual to my amazing beta-reader succube. wihtout her this wouldn't exist.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay listen up:  
> This chapter starts with a flashback which will contain kind of dub-con stuff (not between Sneaky and Meteos!) and hinting/mentioning on some dark stuff. so know what to expect.
> 
> But don't worry, there is nicer stuff in this chapter too :)  
> Hope you enjoy

**_ One year ago _ **

It was late. Late as in after-midnight-and-everyone-else-was-already-in-bed-late. The house was unusually quiet and normally, Will would watch TV to pass the time but somehow, the voices seemed far too loud, even on the lowest volume level, so he had quickly given up. He hadbeen playing solo-queue for a few hours but after losing 4 games in a row, he had decided to call it a day, or night or whatever.

 

Sure he could go to bed as well, probably should, even if tomorrow was their day off. After all, Will did value his sleep, and if he had wanted to, he could have fallen asleep right here, right now, with his head on the kitchen table. The thing was, he didn’t.  Not when Zachary was still out with _her_.

 

He was always out with her.

 

Technically he wasn’t, but _when_ he was, and Will was alone at the gaming house, without Zachary there, it sure felt like always. All the time.

 

It had been a few weeks, a month maybe, since Zachary and him had started doing …stuff. With each other. Stuff, that best friends usually did not do -at least not in Will’s idea of best friends. Not unless those best friend were a little more than best friends. And they were, right? Him and Zachary.

 

They had to be, because otherwise Will would feel incredibly stupid.

 

If they weren’t more than friends then Will would feel stupid for the way his heart had raced when Zachary had kissed him today, just before they left for the studio, short and sweet, when no one was looking. If they weren’t, Will would feel stupid for letting Zachary crawl into his bed smelling of her perfume. If they weren’t, he’d feel stupid for waiting up all night because he couldn’t bear going to bed knowing Zachary was out and about, probably making out passionately with his super-hot girlfriend.

 

Still. More than friends wasn’t exactly what Will _wanted_ them to be.

 

He wasn’t jealous, or bitter, or anything like that. It was just that in Will’s opinion, being more than friends but less than lovers sucked. Majorly.

 

And when he was alone, waiting, waiting like some love struck fool, it not only sucked, it hurt, it hurt so much and sometimes he wondered if Zachary even realized what he was doing, how he was hurting Will. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he was just an idiot for assuming, for hoping, that maybe at one point Zachary would realize that he didn’t want to be with Jenabella _and_ Will but Will, only with Will.

 

In moments like this, like now, when he was alone and sad and angry and hurt he would tell himself he could do it, that he could man up and just straight up tell Zachary to make a choice, to quit playing around like an arse.

 

But he couldn’t. He knew once Zachary would come through this door and kiss him, touch him, he wouldn’t be able to, never had been, not since that first drunken night that had started all this. He had no idea how Zachary felt about it, this thing between them, if he had been thinking about it, for as long as Will had or if for him it literally had started with the taste of cheap beer on Will’s lips and that incredibly annoying dubstep song playing on repeat in the background.

 

They hadn’t talked about it and maybe that was for the best, because if they had, Will would probably have asked for more than what Zachary was willing to give.

 

So Will told himself to be content, to take whatever he could get and be grateful for it. Sure, maybe the guy he had a crush on wasn’t jumping at the chance of being with him, but at least he got to kiss him sometimes, got to feel his hands on his body, got to suck his dick, all that. Will had told himself that it was enough. That it was good. And it was. Right now it didn’t feel like it though.

 

But it would pass, Will knew that. Zachary had a way of making things seem okay, making Will feel good about himself, about them, what they were doing. The problem wasn’t with Zachary. It was with Will when he was alone.

 

“Meteos.”

 

Will’s head snapped up. He hadn’t realized he had let his eyes fall shut.

 

Jenabella was standing in the doorway. Behind her, in the dark, Will could see the lights of the cab that had dropped her off. She was smiling and despite the relatively cool night air she didn’t seem to feel cold, even though she was wearing a strapless top, that was probably sexy or something.

 

“Meteos.” she repeated, sounding just a tiny bit impatient. “I need help getting Sneaky out of the cab.”

 

Will got up, frowning. “Why do you need help?” he asked they started walking towards the still waiting cab.

 

“He’s pretty drunk.” She chirped before walking over to the cab driving, probably to pay, while Will opened the car door.

 

“Hey, man.” Will said as he leaned in to unfasten Zachary’s seatbelt. The other boy was, as Jenabella had said, ‘pretty drunk’. Which was, to be perfectly honest, most likely the understatement of the year. Zachary just lazily smiled at Will, making grabby hands for his hair but almost knocking off Will’s glasses in the process.

 

Drunk Zachary liked to touch people’s hair. Usually it made Will laugh.

 

“Will,” Zachary mumbled as Will tried his best to get his friend out of the cab, somehow, without having them both end up falling on their arses, which proved more difficult than expected since Zachary was not cooperating at all. In fact he kept trying to touch(?), hug(?), kiss(?) Will, which honestly Will wouldn’t mind as much if it weren’t for Zachary’s girlfriend standing right next to them and Zachary being completely and utterly wasted.

 

“Might need a hand here.” Will pointed out while managing to get his arm around Zachary’s waist, which was surprisingly enough to keep him relatively upright if you ignored the swaying back and forth.

 

He honestly didn’t expect Jenabella to be much help, with her spindly arms and those high high heels, but at least she seemed to pretend to make an effort, slinging her arm around Zachary’s waist from the other side. Together they somehow accomplished the task of getting Zachary more or less safely inside of the gaming house.

 

“How is he so drunk? He never gets this drunk.” Will mumbled, more to himself than to Jenabella while managing to evade another kissing attempt from Zachary who instead groaned and rolled over on his bed, burying his head in his pillow.

 

Jenabella had her lips pressed into a tight line, eyes following Zachary’s motions before returning to Will. It made him shift uncomfortably and after he more or less gracefully pulled off Zachary’s sneakers he got on his feet quickly again, awkwardly clearing his throat.

 

“He gets chatty you know.” Jenabella said after a moment of silence. “After a certain number of drinks.”

 

Will swallowed, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “I guess.” He said. For some reason she didn’t seem drunk at all. He cleared his throat. “Okay...uhm.”

 

“Uhm?” she tilted her head, sitting down on the mattress next to Zachary who seemed to have passed out/fallen asleep by now.

 

“I’m gonna-“ Will vaguely gestured in the direction of his own room. “So- You…you take care of him, okay? Like make sure he doesn’t choke on his puke or something, yeah?”

 

A smile flashed over her lips for a split second, all too sweet, before she nodded. “Don’t worry, Will,” she said, lounging herself next to Zachary on the bed in a way that could almost be described as seductive. But that wouldn’t make sense, since Zachary was knocked out and the only other person in the room was Will.

 

He shook his head, trying to clear his head.

 

“I will take care of him.” She still had that smile on her lips, and the way she let her fingers dance down Zachary’s chest made something inside Will stir. He felt uneasiness rising up inside his chest and the urge to look away was suddenly incredibly strong.

 

“What are you-“ he cut himself off, his eyes following Jenabella as she leaned in, letting her lips brush over Zachary’s before wandering to his neck.

 

“Shh, I said don’t worry.” She said, her eyes focused solely on Will, while her hand slipped underneath Zachary’s waistband.

 

“You shouldn’t-“ Will shifted, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “Jena, he’s passed out. Just-“

 

“Relax.” She let out a bell-like laugh, soft and gentle. It gave him chills. “He’s my _boyfriend_ , remember? I’m almost sure he wouldn’t mind.”

 

“I-“ Will shook his head. No. No this was wrong. The way she was looking at him was wrong, how carefully she said those words, her hand between Zachary’s legs, Zachary completely passed out…

 

 “It’s not cool. C’mon. You shouldn’t-” He vaguely gestured towards her and Zachary, wasn’t even sure what exactly he meant, maybe just the general situation.

 

_My boyfriend._ She hadn’t said those words as a statement but as a challenge, an opening, an accusation.

 

She knew. She obviously knew. She had to. God. Will didn’t know how to deal with this.

 

He cleared his throat, looked away and suddenly, suddenly she was on her feet, moving towards him with almost soundless steps, until she was right in front of him. She stared up at him, the smile completely vanished from her face.

 

“What’s the problem here, Meteos?” she asked, carefully stressing every syllable. “You want to watch? Is that it? You think I don’t know, that you…” she paused, tilting her head slightly “…have feelings for him?”

 

Will ignored the way his stomach clenched, concentrating instead on looking anywhere but her. He knew he was probably bright red and with anyone else in any other situation he would have played it off with a joke, like he’s done countless of times, using humor to deal with uncomfortable situations.  But not now. Now he couldn’t, not with her right in front of him with that look on her face and this icy tone in her voice. This felt like so much more than just an uncomfortable situation.

 

“You should really not do that.” He got out, surprised by how hoarse his own voice sounded.

 

She lifted an eyebrow. “Do what? Touch _my_ boyfriend?”

 

There it was again. The way she said those words, the emphasis she put on them, she _knew_ , she knew what she was doing to him with that. She had said it herself: she knew of his feelings for Zachary and yeah fine, that in itself might not be nice, not comfortable for Will, but it was manageable, he- _they_ could deal with that, but the look in her eyes earlier, the way she had pointed out Zachary being quite chatty when he was drunk, the way she was teasing him now...

 

“He’s-“ Will tried to take a step back, to get some more distance between him and Jenabella. “He’s not even conscious.”

 

“So?”

 

“So it’s fucked up.”

 

“You know what is fucked up? Touching something that isn’t yours. And yet…” she glanced over at the bed where Zachary had rolled over onto his side. “…you seem to be fine with doing just that.”

 

He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t look at Zachary. She was right. Zachary wasn’t his, he was hers, her boyfriend, her lover, her whatever she wanted him to be.

 

“You don’t want to watch, no. You want to touch. You want him to be yours. You want, you want, you want.” She was so incredibly close to him, he could feel her breath on his skin, her fingernails running over the skin of his arm causing goosebumps to arise “How often have you touched yourself, thinking about him?  How often did it get your dick hard when we were in that tiny room only inches away from you ‘sleeping’, him fucking me. Did you imagine it to be you?”

 

He flinched, her hand suddenly on his crotch, palming him just for a second before he had the presence of mind to push her away.

 

She giggled, shaking her head. “What exactly is wrong with you?”

 

She reached out, her skinny, but surprisingly strong fingers wrapping around his wrist, pulling him out of the room and into the light of the living room kitchen area. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know about what you two do behind my back?”

 

“What’s wrong with _me_? What’s wrong with you?” Will hissed back, his voice shaking and his hands clenched into fists. “What is this- What are you even talking about I- I don’t know what you- Why you are-“

 

He had practice when it came to lying. Had had to do it often enough. He was a decent liar, even a good one at times, but not right now, not with her messing with his mind like this.

 

“Do you think he loves you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Because he doesn’t, you know? This isn’t your picture perfect love story.  You aren’t the good guy here Will. You are _the other girl_. You are the mistress.” She smiled. “You are nothing.”

 

She leaned against the kitchen counter now, letting her eyes wander through the room casually, almost as if she were bored. She didn’t expect an answer. She knew there wasn’t one.

 

Will wished he could prove her wrong, could confidently call her out on talking bullshit, tell her that of course Zachary loved him, that yes, he was the good guy because they were in love and Zachary would leave Jena for him and they would be happy and in love and happy and-

 

But he couldn’t. Because he knew, even though it hurt to admit it even in his own mind, as well as Jena, that it would be a lie. He knew she was right. Will was _the other girl._ Will had no right to be hurt and mope around. He had made the choice to start this affair, to get involved with somebody who was already taken.

 

Jena hadn’t made a choice. Will and Zachary had. And now Will had to face the consequences.

 

For some reason the look in her eyes, when they finally landed on Will again, was almost pitying.

 

 “Actually let me rephrase that.” Jena continued. “You are _something_. You are a convenient set of holes for him to stick his dick in when I’m not around. And with you he doesn’t even have to bother with the usual ‘relationship stuff’. Because you are just his friend. His buddy. His bro. Ready to suck him off whenever his balls itch. Low maintenance version of a whore. He doesn’t even have to pay you.”

 

“You shouldn’t talk about Zachary like this.” Will whispered and only in his mind did he add that she shouldn’t talk about him like that either. Because her words hurt. The truth hurt. And yet, it was nothing he hadn’t been told before, years ago, twisted versions of cheap insults and humiliation that her words were bringing back to the surface.

 

But that wasn’t important now. What was important now, was that she knew. She knew about them and she knew, what Will has known too, what he had feared; that he wasn’t more than a friend to Zachary.

 

So she was right. She had figured it out so quickly, that Will had to wonder how painfully obvious his pining and Zachary’s disinterest must have been to her.

 

Yes, Zachary didn’t love Will. It was the truth. But a part of Will couldn’t stop believing that one day, at one point, he might, and then everything would be alright. As stupid as it sounded, as stupid as it made him feel.

 

Will just had to wait for it.

 

“I shouldn’t?” she pursed her lips, batting her eyelashes. “Oh but what am I gonna do then? You won’t let me enjoy my boyfriend’s company and you won’t let me have some eye-to-eye, whore-to-girlfriend talk either. What am I gonna do, William?”

 

Jena pushed herself away from the kitchen counter, suddenly very close to Will. He could smell her perfume but no alcohol on her breath. No alcohol.

 

He didn’t want to think about the reason why his mind stumbled over the absence of it. It wasn’t, because by all logic she should be at least a little drunk since she had been out with a now very very drunk Zachary.  It wasn’t that. It was something else. Something that didn’t have anything to do with Jena or Zachary or their whole fucked up situation.

 

Will would really prefer his thoughts not going _there._

 

She smiled up at him, her fingers dancing down his arm, eyes never leaving his. It made him shudder.

 

“What am I gonna do?” she said and even though she didn’t move quick or sudden Will still froze in shock, as her small hand cupped his crotch, after dancing down from his chest, to his stomach, just to end up here, touching Will through his jeans. First, her touch was soft, but when he didn’t react, just standing there paralyzed like a deer in head lights, she tightened her grip, causing him to gasp in surprise and initial pain as she squeezed him with an iron grip.

 

“Shit! What the-“

 

He cut himself off. It was almost as if she’d pressed a hand on his mouth.

 

“Shhhh, Will” she pressed down once for emphasizes. “We don’t want anyone to hear, right?”

 

“What are you-“ his ribcage suddenly feeling to tight, not allowing any air into his lungs. He couldn’t get himself to speak, instead his hands weakly wrapped around her wrist but he somehow couldn’t get himself to remove her hand, to push her away.  Not again. He had managed once, but this time his mind wouldn’t let him.

 

His heart was beating like crazy, not with arousal but with fear. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t shake this feeling of helplessness.

 

He felt like he was thirteen again and this wasn’t Jenabella in front of him, but his drunk dad stumbling into Will’s room instead of his mom’s. It wasn’t her small hands touching him. They were bigger and stronger and rougher and-

 

Will squeezed his eyes shut for a second, breathing in breathing out. Once, twice.

 

He wasn’t allowed to fight back. It only made things worse. But this was Jena. This was Jena. Will tried to focus on that, tried to push that _back_ into focus. Just Jena.

 

“Stop.” He whispered, but she didn’t. She just raised an eyebrow, palming his cock through his pants, grinding down the heel of her hand just ever so slightly, forcing the blood in Will’s body to rush south and the panic to rise further.

 

“You disgust me.” Jena hissed, her free hand finding his throat, the scrape of her fingernails causing him to shiver. “You think you have the moral high ground here. The sad sad boy, unlucky in love with his best friend, who’s already in a relationship with the evil mean girl who doesn’t deserve him. And he hopes and he prays that it’ll be him, that _he_ will choose him. That he will leave her and you get your picture perfect happy ending.”

 

Her lips almost brushed against the shell of his ear as she talked, her words burning on his skin like scalding water. Will closed his eyes, trying to summon all his willpower his strength, to get his body to move, to push her away, to make her stop. He was stronger than her. He knew that. She was shorter, weaker, he wasn’t a child anymore. He should be able to do this, but his body refused to listen, refused to obey.

 

It had always been over quicker when he hadn’t fought. Will hated his body for remembering.

 

“You are wrong.” Jena chimed, the smile on her face making Will feel sick. “You are not the victim here. And you won’t win. I won’t let you. I-”

 

“Stop.” Will managed to croak out, willing his fingers to close tighter around her wrist, stopping the movement of her hand. But she didn’t remove it, not for another agonizingly long moment, before she stepped back, eyeing him up and down, a mocking smirk on her lips.

 

“Stop what?” Jena asked. “Stop the touching? Or stop telling you the truth? Because it _is_ the truth.” She took a step forward again and Will almost hit his head at the kitchen cupboard as he stumbled backwards on instinct, causing an amused smile to flash across her face. “I promise you right now, right here, Will. You. Won’t. Win. I won’t let you. I won’t let you win.”

 

She was standing right in front of him now, as close as she’s been moments ago again. Even though she was the one having to look up at him, there was something undeniably intimidating about her. The way she spoke, the way she looked at him. It made him feel like so small.

 

Will couldn’t hold her gaze. He had to look away, let his eyes wander through the room, lips pressed into a tight line, not to keep words in but because he didn’t have any to begin with.

 

He thought about Zachary. About them kissing just this morning, thought about Zachary laughing so hard at one of Will’s stupid jokes that he’d almost choked on his coke, about the blush on Zachary’s cheeks when he’d returned the blowjob favor to Will for the first time.

 

He thought about Zachary passed out on his bed and the cold smirk on Jena’s lips as she let her hands ghost over his body, her lips on his throat and her hand between his legs just like it had been only moments ago with Will.

 

He felt sick.

 

For a second Jena just looked at Will, waiting, one eyebrow slightly raised, like she wasn’t really expecting an answer but ready if he had one.

 

He didn’t.

 

“Well then,” Jena eventually said, the casual tone of her voice clashing with the tension that was still vibrant in the air. “I wish you sweet dreams.” With those words she leaned in, her lips brushing over his cheek. Like a kiss, like a curse. He felt like throwing up.

 

She was already halfway across the room when Will was able to force another breathe into his lungs.

 

“Where are you-“ Will ran his hand through his hair, trying to regain his ability to string words into complete sentences, while his brain was still trying to catch up with what had just happened. All he knew was that she was going into the direction of Zachary’s room again.

 

“Aren’t you going to-“ _leave?_ Will knew his voice was somewhere between upset and panicked but there was nothing he could do about that. He just hoped, prayed that she _would_ leave. Just go and leave him and Zachary alone, just for the night, let Will get things inside his head back into order, let him curl up in bed next to Zachary and pretend that things were alright, that she wasn’t right with everything she had thrown at him.

 

“Oh I would but I’m so so tired…” Jena replied, mockery dripping from her words, as she tilted her head slightly. “And my feet hurt so much… And there’s no harm in a girl sleeping- staying with _her_ boyfriend for the night, is there?“

 

He heard the threat in her voice even though he wished he didn’t. She knew what she was saying, what she was implying. She could probably sense the icy shudder her words send down Will’s spine.

 

“Jena-”

 

“Will,” She smiled, walking in slow deliberate steps back to him, her heels clicking on the floor. She stopped right in front of him, faking a sigh, fluttering her eye-lashes. “I don’t suppose you would be so kind as to _lend_ me some money for the cab… would you?”

 

“I…what?” the look in her eyes filled his veins with ice. He half expected her to shrug, to put that goddamn smirk back on, to mock him further, but she didn’t. It was just her and her cold eyes and the hammering of his own heart. “How much do you need?” _How much do you want?_

 

For a second Will felt like someone else was speaking, like this wasn’t his voice, saying those words, suddenly oddly calm, his tone matching hers.

 

“Mh…let me think” Jena sighed and just like that the taunting was back in her voice. Her fake laughter echoing as loud as screams inside Will’s head. “300?”

 

“I- Cash?“ Will helplessly clenched his hands into fists, unsure what to do with them as he could feel his throat closing up “I don’t have- I have like 50? I-“

 

“Well go get it.” Jena smiled, patting his cheek. She didn’t comment on him flinching back as if she had slapped him and a part of him was shamefully thankful for that. Her lips just curled into a tight smile and gestured towards his room like she was telling a dog to go fetch.

 

“I’m confident you’ll give me the rest soon enough.”

 

Will didn’t answer. She was right again.

 

 

***

 

 

**_ Now _ **

 

It’s four days until the playoffs game against Team Liquid. It’s been over a week since the last game day. Since _that_ day. Since the day that hickey appeared on Zachary’s neck. It’s mostly faded now, but whenever Will looks at him, his eyes are drawn to it. He stares at the soft skin there for a split second, sometimes longer, until Zachary glances at him and that flash of what Will by now is fairly sure is guilt, crosses his face.

 

Will looks away then, reminds himself of Hai’s words, of what’s at stake, of the slim slim chance that maybe it doesn’t mean what he thinks it does. He reminds himself that as long as he doesn’t ask, doesn’t talk about it, they can still pretend or at least try to pretend that nothing is wrong.  That’s what everyone else seems to be doing anyway. Everyone that has the slightest idea of things not being okay, of things having have changed. Will and Zach and Hai. And well, whoever isn’t blind enough to not pick up on something being off.

 

It doesn’t matter anyway. Will is used to this, keeping his mouth shut, pretending everything is fine. He can ignore the way it makes his stomach coil and his chest hurt. He’s doing it every night, when he slips under the covers next to Zachary, every time Hai gives him one of those pointed and yet sorry looks that remind Will a little of his mom, even though he despises himself for making that comparison.

 

There is no secret to keep this time, in this situation, is there? There is nothing Will knows, nothing Hai _knows_. So it’s okay.

 

It’s okay.

 

Usually Zachary wakes up when Will gets up, him being a light sleeper and all that. When he doesn’t though, it’s been always Will’s job, even before they became a couple, to wake Zachary up. Since Zachary is not a morning person, he’s moody and grumpy and does not appreciate being woken up, sometimes he can be a real dick and nobody is really willing to put up with that. Especially since once Zachary has been woken up like this and starts his day pissed off it takes quite some time for it to get better, for his mood to lighten and him to become a sociable creature again.

 

It’s different when Will wakes him. Will has perfected his method over the last years and since they’ve started this thing between them it had gotten more than a little bit easier. It’s not really a trick or a super-secret technique. It’s pretty simple actually. Anybody would prefer being woken by a kiss then by an alarm clock or a team mate yelling “Get up!” at you from across the room.

 

So Will lies down next to Zachary’s sleeping form on the covers, watches the rise and fall of his breathing and how incredibly soft and young his features look like this, with his glasses off and his face relaxed in sleep.

 

He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from Zachary’s forehead carefully. Zachary doesn’t wake just furrows his brow a bit before a soft sigh falls from his lips. He looks beautiful like this and of course, Will would never tell him that because Zachary doesn’t like being called ‘girly’ words like that, which, in Will’s eyes, is pretty stupid. He accepts it, like he always does when it comes to Zachary’s aversion to those things, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And fuck it, Zachary can tell Will not to say it, but his thoughts are still his own, so he will keep calling his boyfriend beautiful, even if it’s only inside his own head.

 

The thing is, in a moment like this, Will almost forgets the past week, or rather weeks. It’s just him and the boy he loves, none of the other complicated stuff. It’s just them. But his mind betrays him eventually, his eyes dropping down to the side of Zachary’s neck, his heart skipping a beat and he has to swallow around the lump forming in his throat.

 

Will closes his eyes, then, counting back from ten to zero in his mind. He doesn’t want to believe but at the same time a part of him is screaming for him to finally ask, to finally say it, get that confirmation for what he’s already figured out but refuses to acknowledge, because slowly it’s getting unbearable.

 

_Don’t talk, don’t talk._

 

Will understands where Hai is coming from, why he’s asking that of him, of them. But he can’t shake the feeling that when not-talking got them here, even more days of more not-talking won’t make it any better.

 

When Will opens his eyes again, Zachary is still asleep, but it’s no longer as deep as it was before. It is the shallow sleep of someone not quite waking up yet, but almost. His eyelids flutter a bit and his hand curls in itself on the pillow, the fingers opening and closing. Will almost smiles when he slowly slips his own hand there, feels Zachary’s fingers closing around his like it has done countless of mornings.

 

It takes a soft kiss to the back of Zachary’s hand and whispered “Zach,” once, twice, for Zachary to finally open his eyes, lazily blinking up at Will, still disoriented from sleep.

 

“Morning.” Will mumbles and presses a short kiss to Zachary’s lips, which draws a tiny smile from the other boy.

 

“Mornin’” he croaks and now it’s Will’s turn to smile.

 

It’s nice like this, pretending things are good. It reminds him a bit of when they started this thing between them. When Will had felt torn apart by anger and self-loathing one second and affection the next. With Zachary things had been good; he didn’t mind Zachary having someone else when he’d been bend over a table with Zachary’s dick up his arse. He hadn’t minded that the kisses they shared hadn’t meant the same to the other boy as to him. It had been okay. More than that. Being attracted to somebody like that, being able to act on that attraction, it had felt like a miracle to Will.

 

But when he’d been alone, when they weren’t touching, weren’t _with_ each other, then it had bothered him, _then_ he hadn’t been able to pretend things were good.

 

It’s a little like this right now.

 

Zachary slipping his hand into Will’s hair, softly pulling him in and the taste of his lips, his tongue, it feels good, it feels normal. The breathy little sounds that Zachary lets out when Will deepens the kiss, when he cups his jaw and uses just the tiniest hint of teeth, send shivers down Will’s spine.

 

“Zach,” Will breathes when he disconnects their mouths, instead kissing the side of Zachary’s jaw, his throat, the feeling of Zachary’s hands in his hair, the slightest pull making it so good. 

 

Zachary lets out a breathless giggle, shifting a bit under covers so Will can easily move his leg over him, so he’s basically lying on top of Zachary. Zachary cants up his hips the slightest bit, pressing against Will’s and despite them being separated by clothing and the duvet Will can feel Zachary’s hard cock against him. His own dick is twitching inside his sweatpants, taking interest in the situation and Zachary crashing their mouths together with a hungry fervor certainly doesn’t lessen it.

 

Will grinds his hips down against Zachary, feeling him buck up to meet him, chasing as much friction as he can get with too much fabric still separating them. They kiss like this for a while, openmouthed and passionate, Zachary’s fingers clawed into the fabric of Will’s shirt and Will’s lips are at Zachary’s throat more often than not. And if it’s a little more desperate, a little more urgent than usual, neither of them mention it. It’s just moans and breathy whines between them.

 

“Move-“ Zachary mumbles between kisses, when they separate for air, Will panting, his forehead leaned against Zachary’s collarbone. “Will.”

 

Will complies, rolling over so he’s on his back and Zachary can crawl on top of him, straddling his chest. But not before he has stripped out of his boxer-shorts. Zachary is completely naked now.

 

He looks down at him and Will lets his hands roam over Zachary’s naked chest, the pale skin flushed red. Zachary shudders under the touch, when Will’s fingers eventually graze over his nipples. He whines and his hands fly to Will’s, covering them, keeping them in place. Will smirks at that.

 

Zachary is always big talk and fake confidence when they are with others but right now he isn’t. He doesn’t say what he needs, what he wants but Will understands anyways, he pinches Zachary’s nipples, tugs and twists, not so much that it’s painful but enough for Zachary to throw his head back, an embarrassingly high pitched whine falling from his lips that goes straight to Will’s cock.

 

Next thing he knows is Zachary crashing their lips together for another series of hot kisses that leave Will’s heart hammering against his ribs so hard he wonders if Zachary can feel it in his thighs, if maybe it adds to his arousal, his cock already fully erect curved up towards his stomach with precome dripping from the tip.

 

“I”- Zachary bites his lips, panting as he flicks his fringe out of his eyes. “…we- Will we haven’t, haven’t properly fucked in-“

 

Will doesn’t let him finish, instead yanks him down to seal his lips with a kiss. He knows what Zachary was about to say and he doesn’t want to hear it. Not now, not ever.

 

_We haven’t properly fucked in over a week._

 

If Will wanted he could properly tell the exact number of days. Fact is they haven’t gone all the way since… the last _game day._ Game day. Will prefers to think of it as that, not the possible day of something else, maybe probably having happened. It’s easier and more pleasant considering he has his naked boyfriend straddling and an erection that demands to be taken care of sooner or later.

 

“You want to?” Will mumbles, feeling a little stupid at the question, because well duh, there’s hardly ever a time Zachary does not want it (not that Will is much different). At one point Charlie had to sit them down and very awkwardly order/ask them to maybe not fuck on or on the day before game days since  Will not being able to sit comfortably was something he feared might be a problem.

 

“Yeah,” Zachary pants giving his own cock a couple of strokes, not breaking eye contact with Will “fuck. Yeah I want to. You?”

 

“Yes.” Will says while cupping Zachary’s arse and pulling him up his chest, further so his cock is just close enough to Will’s mouth to kiss. He does it, leaning in and flicking his tongue over the tip for a short second, drawing a hiss of pleasure from Zachary that seems to resonate with every fiber of Will’s body. He doesn’t let up, pulls Zachary even closer so much that Zachary almost topples over has to grab the headboard for support, his knees basically on either side of Will’s head now.

 

Will looks up at Zachary through his lashes, takes in the shine of salvia on the other boy’s slightly parted lips, the blush of his cheeks and his lust blown eyes, then he leans in, taking the tip of Zachary’s cock inside his mouth with a sudden suck, that has Zachary bucking forward, gasping, fingers digging into the headboard like he’s scared he’ll lose his balance.

 

Zachary isn’t good with self-control, pacing himself, but Will has long overcome his gag reflex when it comes to a cock hitting the back of his throat suddenly. His hands on Zachary’s hips help controlling it, he can hold him back, pull off and take him back in sucking at Zachary’s cock while his tongue draws more and more of these breathtaking sounds from him.

 

“God-“ Zachary hisses as he fucks deeper into Will’s throat and if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied Will would have probably pulled that ancient joke of ‘but you can call me Will’. As it is he just focusses on taking Zachary deeper, as deep as he can in this position, swallowing around Zachary’s cock because he knows that drives the other boy (probably anyone) crazy. Sure enough  Zachary’s rhythm if there had been any to begin with falters  and Will has to concentrate on holding his breath because there is no way he’s getting any air right now with Zachary’s cock shoved into his throat.

 

If it hadn’t been for Zachary’s request of going all the way today Will would have expected Zachary to pull out now, give his cock a couple of more strokes then come on Will’s face because truth be told that’s something they both enjoy more than just a little. But as it is, he just signals Zachary with a gentle push of his hands against the boy’s hips to pull back, and Zachary does, leaving a trail of salvia and precome on Will’s chin.

 

Zachary’s breathing is going quick and ragged and Will can see in the way he’s taking in the air, the way his thighs tense and relax that he’s trying his hardest to pull himself back from the edge again, to calm himself, regain some composure. As much as possible, anyway. It makes Will  smile even though it’s getting a little bit harder seeing Zachary like this and having his mind not wander, having him not imagine Zachary looking like this but with somebody else between his legs…

 

“Do you-“ Zachary looks down on Will his lips deliciously red from biting them in fruitless attempts to keep quiet. Zachary was many things but quiet wasn’t one of them. He swallows, looks a little unsure for some reason, so Will caresses the soft flesh of his thighs, pressing a kiss to the skin he can reach when turning his head to the side, waiting for Zachary to catch his breath, to finish that sentence. “Do you…maybe wanna be on top?” Zachary gets out eventually “this time?”

 

“Uh.” Will frowns. Their current position very much has Zachary on top, obviously, since he is basically sitting on Will’s face, but even if Zachary wanted to switch positions, he usually isn’t much one for asking, he either _tells_ Will how he wants it or they just go with the flow, see how they end up. Will squints at Zachary. “….you want me to….ride you?”

 

Zachary lets out a frustrated, embarrassed sigh and shakes his head. He’s got one hand cupping Will’s jaw, his thumb brushing over Will’s lips, gathering some of the precome, before softly pressing in, letting Will suck the digit clean while he contemplates how he he’s going to put whatever he’s trying to ask.

 

“Do you, like-“ Zachary looks at him intently. “I mean do you want to do the fucking? Today? Like- you know...”

 

Oh, Will _knows_. He opens his mouth before closing it again, just looking up at Zachary blankly. This is…unusual.

 

It’s not  like they never do it that way, with Zachary being the one taking it, but the truth is those times are scarcely scattered in between, not nearly as often as the other way round, and usually Zachary doesn’t ask directly like this. He either decides or starts the whole thing jokingly, probably to leave himself a way out or something. Point is, _this_ now is weird and it leaves Will with an uneasy feeling inside his chest, even though the mere thought of being inside of Zachary makes his dick twitch with arousal.

 

 “What no joke about me welcoming you to my butthole?” Zachary asks, raising an eyebrow, but the uncertainty in his voice makes the joke fall flat, and Will doesn’t manage more than a weak smile and a kiss to Zachary’s pale thigh next to his head.

 

“You want me to fuck you.” Will states, just to be sure, just to be certain he didn’t get this wrong. Handjobs, blowjobs, him fucking Will, Will knows Zachary is on board with that, he always is but this is something different and this tense expression on Zachary’s face doesn’t really make it better.

 

Some part of Will is scared that Zachary might be offering this not because he wants it but because it’s his way of trying to feel less guilty, giving Will something he knows he likes to make up for…something.

 

Then Zachary manages a smile and Will pushes the thought aside quickly.

 

“I asked if _you_ would like to-“ Zachary say emphasizing the you and okay, yeah, that’s normal, that’s usual. Zachary would never not-jokingly admit to liking it up the arse, he has to pin it on Will, because for some reason in Zachary’s head it would make him less of a man if _he_ was the one wanting it.

 

“It’s just that you usually prefer-“ Will licks his lips and shrugs as much as their current position allows it.

 

Zachary rolls his eyes. “I know what I usually prefer but- fuck Will- C’mon.”

 

“Okay.” Will says quickly, leaning just the slightest bit forward so he can get his lips back onto Zachary’s cock before his mind can tell him that there is more to this than just his boyfriend really wanting to get fucked by him.

 

Will sucks one ball into his mouth, concentrating on the surprised gasp that Zachary doesn’t quite manage to suppress. One of Zachary’s hands finds its way into Will’s hair, his fingernails scraping his scalp, twisting in his hair. The other hand is still clutched to the headboard for balance, which proves necessary because when Will suddenly hauls him up further and presses his lips to his perineum, Zachary almost falls over. He’s got both hands bracing against the headboard now, but the tremble in his thighs tells Will enough as he kisses and licks at the sensitive stretch of skin behind Zachary’s balls before he moves further pressing his lips to the rim of Zachary’s hole and the noise Zachary makes in response has all blood in Will’s body rush south.

 

Zachary is mumbling something but Will cannot make out any words with Zachary’s thighs pressed against this ears and it’s not really important because after the initial surprise Zachary is slowly hesitantly rocking back onto his mouth, and Will smiles as he uses his hands to spread Zachary’s arse cheeks as much as necessary for him to give his hole several quick wet licks before dipping his tongue in as much as it’s possible with Zachary being as tight as he is, unprepped.

 

Zachary lets out a whine that Will can feel in his whole body.

 

The position is quite straining though, for the both of them, and it’s not like this is the main event anyway. Will doesn’t want Zachary to come just from being eaten out, so soon he taps Zachary’s knee and Zachary quickly sits back, shuffling Will’s chest down a bit.

 

He’s bright red and he’s got that glazed look in his eyes he only gets when he’s so very turned on that he can finally ignore all this bullshit of being ‘manly’ and ‘not gay’. There is that tiny crease between his brows that always makes Will want to kiss him, but he’s got to concentrate on breathing right now.

 

Will wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, while Zachary crawls over to the nightstand to pull out a half empty bottle of lube, which he then tosses at Will.

 

Will catches it and waits for Zachary to make the decision on how he wants to go about this, getting prepared, lying on his back so they can look at each other or rather on all fours from behind.

 

“Like this?” Will asks when Zachary gets into position on his hands and knees, facing away from Will and Zachary nods so Will opens the bottle coating his fingers in a generous amount of lube, because well, it’s been a while since Zachary had been the one on the receiving side. Two months maybe, Will isn’t sure. He just knows when he presses in the first finger Zachary immediately tenses, his breath hitching, his body getting impossibly tight at the intrusion.

 

It doesn’t take long though until Zachary starts to relax, giving Will more room to work with, eventually even rocking back onto his fingers, wordlessly signaling him that he can take more, wants to take more, so Will complies, pushing in a second finger, scissoring them, pushing in and out, crooking them just the right angle and sure enough, it might have been a while but he still knows how Zachary works and when he brushes his fingers over the other boy’s prostate Zachary almost falls over, his arms buckling under the wave of pleasure that rolls through his body.

 

“You enjoy this so much,” Will mumbles, pressing a kiss to the sweaty nape of Zachary’s neck. “I don’t get why you don’t let me do this more often.”

 

It’s true, he doesn’t get it, not really. Sure he knows, it’s got something to do with this toxic masculinity thing Zachary’s got going on, but it’s not like they really talk about that because really, what _do_ they talk about?

 

“Just because.” As always the answer from Zachary offers nothing at all not that Will expected any differently. He’s quite sure Zachary doesn’t get it himself.

 

“kay.” Will says more to himself than to Zachary and withdraws his fingers. For a second he watches Zachary’s hole trying to close around nothing before clearing his throat, giving his so far quite neglected cock a couple of strokes to get himself back to full hardness. Zachary doesn’t move. He’s got the side of his face pressed into the pillow, facing away from Will.

 

The side of his neck is exposed.

 

For some reason Will finds himself hesitating. He bites his lip, letting his eyes roam over Zachary’s naked body, about the flushed but unmarked skin.

 

Will doesn’t leave hickeys or marks. Zachary doesn’t like it. There are none now. Of course there aren’t. Will knows it. Zachary knows it.

 

And yet Will had apologized for it.For the hickey. Had managed to talk himself into believing that maybe he really did make it.

 

And Zachary had let him.

 

Will swallows and Zachary throws him an annoyed, impatient glance.

 

Will doesn’t know what to do.

 

That hadn’t been _his_ hickey. It hadn’t. But he can’t ask Zachary. He can’t, not now, not like this, not after this talk with Hai after everything. It’s just so fucked up.

 

“Moment.” Will mumbles scrambling around in their nightstand drawer until he finds it.

 

A condom. Probably already expired, he isn’t sure, but it’ll do. Zachary’s eyes widen in confusion and sure enough he turns around, staring at Will then at the condom in his hand and back.

 

“What-“  Zachary sounds something between irritated and offended. “What are you doing? What the fuck, Will? Why-“

 

Will presses his lips together and for a few moments they just stare at each other, both silent. Zachary shifts uncomfortably and Will doesn’t want to read too much into it because honestly that could just be because he’s naked with spread legs in front of him and, to be honest, there could be a thousand reasons for this, but the lump in Will’s throat is still there.

 

He tries for a weak smile. “Don’t want to get you pregnant?”

 

Zachary opens his mouth but nothing comes out and honestly, it only adds to the uneasiness Will feels because he basically just called Zachary a girl and there was no joke in return, not defensive aggression, nothing, just Zachary putting on a face that Will doesn’t know how to interpret.

 

Will takes a deep breath. “We don’t need this.” He pauses locking eyes with Zachary. “Right?”

 

Zachary stares at him. Then slowly he reaches out, pulling Will in so their foreheads are almost touching. He’s not looking at him though, his eyes are cast downwards and Will doesn’t want to think about the why behind that.

 

“We don’t.” Zachary eventually says, his voice so slow, it’s almost a whisper “We don’t need this.”

 

At the last words, he takes the condom out of Will’s hand, tossing it aside and before Will can react Zachary’s lips are on his, kissing him, wet and hungry, silencing the voices inside Will’s head for a blissful moment.

 

“Just get inside me.” Zachary pants, when he eventually pulls back from the kiss, letting himself fall back onto the bed, spreading his thighs for Will. Will can’t help but wrap his hand around his cock at the sight, pumping it a couple of times, not taking his eyes off Zachary. Because despite everything, seeing Zachary like this, legs spread, looking wrecked, like he’s literally aching for it, it does something to Will, it helps pushing everything else aside.

 

And Zachary said they don’t need the condom. That has to count for something, right?

 

When Will finally pushes in, he feels the heat in every centimeter of his body and the sound that Zachary makes only adds to it. For a second Will doesn’t move, just relishes in the feeling of Zachary’s tightness around him, the hammering of his own heart, Zachary’s quick shallow breathes, the way he bites his lip, brows furrowed, eyes pressed shut.

 

“Move.” Zachary eventually half moans, half whispers, his tone hushed and urgent and Will complies immediately, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in, again and again. Slowly picking up pace, going faster, harder and Zachary’s response is utterly breathtaking. The way his whines turn into moans, going from sounds getting out through pressed shut lips, to open mouthed moaning, with his head thrown back and eyes closed.

 

Zachary rocks his hips upwards at just the right moments, meeting each of Will’s movements, like they are completely in sync and with every time Will slams back into him, he can feel the heat rise between them.

 

Moan after moan comes out of Zachary’s mouth - he’s not even trying to hold them back anymore - and Will is thankful for that. They fill his head, not leaving any room for much else. Zachary’s fingernails dig into Will’s back, maybe, hopefully, leaving marks there, marks that will be theirs. Only theirs.

 

Will thrusts in deeper, connecting their mouths for a split second and the way Zachary immediately opens his lips, giving Will access, shows him how hungry Zachary is for this, how much he wants it, needs it.

 

Will lets one hand drift to Zachary’s legs where they are wrapped around Will’s waist, pressing slightly down on his thigh, pushing it back further, opening Zachary wider so with the next thrust he goes even deeper. The choked sob and the teeth on his shoulder prove that it’s enough. Hitting Zachary’s prostate with each roll of his hip gets them both closer and closer to the edge quickly, because the way Zachary arches his back, seems to lose it even more at the sensation, at what _Will_ is making him feel, is just too perfect. It’s Zachary wanting this, loving this. Loving what Will does to him.

 

The sound of skin against skin and Will’s quick breathing fills the room, along with the high pitched sounds Zachary always makes when he’s getting fucked exactly how he needs it, when he allows himself to actually ask for it.

 

Will can’t take his eyes of him, doesn’t want to, every corner of his mind is occupied with the feeling of Zachary clenched tight around him. Zachary moans a choked, broken version of Will’s name into his mouth as they kiss messily, uncoordinated, his fingers tangled in Will’s hair. It hurts just the right amount to have Will almost lose it, their hips moving in the same rhythm, their bodies flush together. Will can feel Zachary’s hard cock rubbing between their stomachs. Zachary’s whimpers ring in his ears and with one two, last thrust he comes, spilling deep inside Zachary who clenches impossibly tight around him and it only takes Will a moment to feel the warm sticky mess between their bodies because apparently Zachary came too.

 

Will collapses with the force of it. Still inside of Zachary he lets his head drop against the chest of the other boy, feeling the hammering of his heartbeat against his ear, concentrating on this heat, on his own breathing. He doesn’t care to pull out right now, doesn’t care for the mess between them or anything else. His mind is just comfortably empty right now.

 

Zachary’s arms come up around him, holding him, and just for a little while everything seems okay.

 

Eventually Will pulls out but without untangling himself from Zachary’s embrace because this is good and he just wants to stay like this a bit longer. Just a little while. So they do, until Will’s breathing has normalized again and he’s starting to feel the comparatively cool air against his sweaty naked skin.

 

It doesn’t matter though, because his head is still resting on Zachary’s chest and the other boy’s breathing doesn’t return to calm and even. His chest is still heaving, rising and falling in choked breaths. Like he’s trying not to cry.

 

When Will’s head snaps up and his eyes find Zachary’s sure enough there are tears in the other boy’s eyes and if there had been flashes of guilt until now, it’s nothing compared to the expression he’s wearing now. He looks like he hates nothing more than himself and god, Will doesn’t know how to handle that, refuses to acknowledge what his mind is telling him this means.

 

“…did I hurt you?” Will asks, suppressing the tremble in his voice as much as he can. He knows the answer and yet some sick part of him that the answer would be yes, that yes, Will accidently hurt him, that that is the problem, that there is nothing else, but Zachary shakes his head quickly,  hiding his face behind his hands.

 

“No.” Zachary whispers. “Shit, you didn’t. No, I-“ he takes a couple of quick insufficient breathes, untangling himself from Will, sitting up as well as he manages, his finger flying to his fringe,  brushing the hair out of his eyes in a frantic manner.

 

Will just blankly watches.

 

“I fucked up, Will.” Zachary finally blurts out shooting Will a pleading glance, but Will isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with that. He knows what Zachary is saying, of course he does, but his head is still empty and his body refuses to move.

 

“You’ll have to be more specific.” He hears himself say, his voice sounding flat and alien to himself. He’s sure Zachary hears it too. Or maybe not, the other boy seems much too caught up in his own mind, his own misery.

 

 His lips are still a darker shade of red from all their kissing but even though Will usually loves the sight of it right now it feels outright mocking. He can’t shake this feeling, even though Zachary doesn’t answer. Just remains quiet, eyes darting from his hands, to Will and back again. It’s like he can’t stand looking at Will for more than a second.

 

“Just say it.” Will says suddenly feeling as tired as he probably sounds. He reaches for the tissues on their nightstand, methodically cleaning the come off his stomach, waiting for Zachary to say something, anything. But the other boy remains quiet.

 

Will swallows, feeling something resembling anger starting to bubble up inside his chest. “Just say it.” He repeats. “Just fucking say it, Zach.”

 

Zachary stays silent.

 

When Will looks at him, he’s got his hands yanked in his own hair, eyes pressed shut and a pained expression on his face.

 

It’s not fair. It’s so not fair. Will’s first instinct is to comfort him. To say sorry. To tell him that it’s okay and that he doesn’t have to say anything, but that’s not right. That’s not how this goes, not this time. Zachary has no right to have Will feel sorry, for him to be kind and loving and what else now.

 

It’s not fucking fair. Will has always done everything for this guy. Everything. And yet Zachary refuses to say it.

 

“Fucking say it!” Will suddenly yells and Zachary’s eyes snap open in shock.

 

Will doesn’t yell. Will doesn’t get angry. Usually. But now Will can feel angry tears burning in his eyes. “Fucking say you cheated on me! Just say it! You owe me that much.”

 

_Cheated._ It’s the first time Will has allowed himself to even think that word in regards of this situation but now he’s said it. Now there’s no going back.

 

When Zachary finally speaks his voice is barely more than a whisper but it still feels like a slap in the face.

 

“I cheated on you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> Well... please leave a comment?
> 
> (as usually thanks to Succube for being an amazing and very patient beta <3)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas you guys <3  
> Here have some emotional stuff to enjoy

_I cheated on you._

 

Zachary is not prepared for this. He is not prepared for actually saying those words, those words that he avoided thinking so adamantly. Stubbornly, in denial, tangling himself in the irrational belief that maybe, somehow, things would work out, would go away on their own. He had convinced himself that he wouldn’t have to say it, not after days passing by, not after those kisses they had still shared and the warmth of Will’s body next to him at night. He had convinced himself that things would just be okay, would just turn back to normal. Eventually.

 

But he had been wrong.

 

It’s out now. He has said it and Will, Will knows.

 

And regardless of whether he had suspected or feared it, the look in his eyes when those goddamn words are finally spoken feels like a knife to the chest. Zachary can see it, in those endlessly long stretching seconds, he can see that despite his harsh words, despite him yelling at Zachary to finally say it, to say he cheated, despite all that, Will still had entertained some last bit of hope, a fragile little thing against all odds that maybe he had been wrong, that maybe Zachary hadn’t betrayed him, hadn’t broken his trust.

 

But he had been wrong too.

 

“I cheated on you.”

 

Zachary repeats the words Will spelled out for him, like a child. And it makes him feel so cold, so unbelievably cold underneath his skin, despite the heat of shame rising in his cheeks. Moments ago he had held Will in his arms, had felt his heartbeat against his chest and now Will is just sitting there, on the edge of the bed, face completely blank. Gone is the anger, the hurt, everything that had been so vibrant in Will’s voice when he had finally demanded for Zachary to say it. There is nothing there now.

 

It feels like Will is a million miles away and Zachary doesn’t know how to reach him.

 

The fucked up thing is, Zachary can still feel him inside, can feel Will’s come slowly leaking out of him. He can still feel the traces of Will’s touch on his skin and there is still this perfect rawness to his lips that can only be caused by kissing.

 

It feels so surreal, bizarre even. A little like a glitch in the matrix or something. And Zachary has caused it. He did this. This is his doing and the severity of it is something that he should have expected, should have anticipated, and yet, when the words are out and time stops for a moment, Zachary feels complete and utterly unprepared.

 

_I cheated on you._

 

This hadn’t been the right moment, not the right time or situation. He should have said it days ago, should have confessed the day it happened, but he hasn’t and now it’s all messed up. Zachary doesn’t think there is ever a right moment or time or whatever to tell your boyfriend that you slept with somebody else; but getting overwhelmed with guilt and desperation while he fucks you, only then to fail to say it on your own and forcing him to say it first, to say it out loud, because you are such a goddamn coward, that certainly is _not_ the right way. At least that Zachary is sure of.

 

What he isn’t sure of, is what to do. What to say now, now that it’s out and that they’ve sat in silence for what feels like forever.

 

Then Will moves. Slowly, mechanically, he reaches for his shirt, where it has fallen on the ground and pulls it over his head. Zachary finds himself just watching. He’s got his lips pressed together in a tight line but they still tremble and he can still feel tears threatening to fall. Somehow they haven’t yet.

 

Somehow Will still hasn’t said anything either.

 

“Say something.”

 

Zachary almost feels startled by his own voice, how hoarse and embarrassingly desperate it sounds. He doesn’t want to imagine what Will thinks of it, what Will thinks of anything right now.

 

“Will-“ Zachary finds himself pleading, because at the same time he needs to know, needs to know what’s going on in Will’s head.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Will says tonelessly, his eyes not meeting Zachary’s. Instead he pulls on his sweatpants, smoothing the fabric over his thighs before reaching for his glasses.

 

He hasn’t stood up yet, but having him sit there, dressed, his back towards Zachary while Zachary is still fully naked, it feels wrong and it scares him. It’s so distant. It scares Zachary more than the yelling earlier, the unfamiliar harshness to Will’s voice. He deserved it as much as he does this silence now, but for some reason the latter is so much harder to bear. He wishes Will would yell at him again, would scream and rage and ask him why and how and how dare you.

 

It’s not that Zachary has an answer to any of those question, it’s just that basically, everything would be better than _this_.

 

“Will!” he repeats again, this time with more urgency, more pleading, more pained, as he reaches out, scrambling forward on the bed to somehow close this distance between them, but before his fingertips as much as brush Will’s shoulder, Will flinches away, is on his feet within the fraction of his second. The blankness is gone from his face.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

 

It’s nothing more than a hissed whisper, but to Zachary it feels like he’s been burned. It’s sharp and it stings and it makes the first tear fall.

 

Zachary angrily rubs it away, angry at himself, for this, for everything.

 

“Will, please I-“

 

_I’m sorry._

 

_I fucked up._

 

_Forgive me._

 

_Please. Please. Forgive me. Please._

 

_I’m sorry._

 

_I’m so fucking sorry._

 

Will is looking at him, jaw set tight and arms wrapped around himself, almost protectively, waiting for Zachary  to speak, to finish his sentence, but all Zachary  does is stare.

 

He can’t say it, none of it, the words get stuck in his throat with all their sharp edges and angles.

 

He feels ashamed for the tears falling from his eyes, hates the way they burn in his eyes. Has always hated them, hated crying. Zachary doesn’t have any right to cry now, apart from it being pathetic and stupid and wimpy, he has no goddamn right. He did this. He fucked up. He texted Jena back, he went with her into that restroom, he let her kiss him, he fucked her against the sink counter. He did this.

 

Zachary shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be allowed to.

 

Will doesn’t comment on his tears, doesn’t mock him for it, but he doesn’t move to comfort him either, like he had done before, the only time Zachary let himself cry in front of him. He just looks at him silently and Zachary wishes it didn’t make him feel like the one time his mother found 14 year old him crying in the bathroom, and simply told him she needed help getting the living-room ready for Emma’s birthday party.

 

Zachary had felt so guilty for having cried that day, cursed himself for not having pushed that irrational, stupid freakout about his sexuality back a day further, not do this on his little sister’s birthday. He had no right to ruin her day like that. Just like he has no right to these emotions right now. Not when it’s Will who’s been hurt and Zachary himself is the offender.

 

He wants to say he’s sorry so badly, but when he opens his mouth it’s not what comes out. Of course not. It’s the wrong words that stumble out.

 

“It was a mistake” Zachary pleads. It sounds like a weak echo to what he told Jena in the restaurant restroom. It was a mistake. It meant nothing. A mistake. Just a mistake. “I swear it was- It was only once I-“

 

“Don’t.” Will cuts him off and the tone of it makes Zachary’s chest constrict. “Don’t tell me this. Don’t just-“ Will gets to his feet, running his shaky hands through his messy hair, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “Fuck. Just- Just shut up. Don’t tell me anything. Nothing. Not- Just don’t. Don’t say another fucking thing.”

 

“What?”

 

Zachary is grabbing for his sweatpants but he doesn’t want to take his eyes of Will, doesn’t want to look away, because what if he leaves? What if he walks out on Zachary right this moment? What if this is it?

 

Will shakes his head, looking anywhere but Zachary. His fists are clenching and unclenching. “Don’t talk about this.” He says, almost pleadingly and Zachary doesn’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.

 

_Don’t talk._ Will doesn’t push things, doesn’t really ask questions, but he never, never ever told Zachary not to talk, not when Zachary tried to, wanted to. Him doing this now, it feels grossly out of character, weird and foreign, especially now.

 

There’s a pained expression on Will’s face, when he continues, “Don’t tell me about- about this. We, we are not…talking. About this. We are not. We got playoffs. We have to-“

 

Something that could resemble a laugh finds its way out between the words, but it’s cold and brittle.

 

“We got playoffs.” Will repeats after a moment, voice a little firmer, a little flatter now. “Hai told me to let it go, to push it back. Wait till after playoffs. To not _talk_ about this. To not-“

 

Zachary feels like he’s going to be sick. “Hai knows?”

 

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. Hai knowing is almost trivial  in this moment, compared to Will, to Will knowing, to Will looking at him like this, but for some reason the thought of someone else, an additional person who is less involved than Will, knowing, knowing what a despicable person Zachary is, it’s frightening and shameful.

 

“-to not fucking talk about it. He told me. And I-  God I-“ Will ignores him, maybe doesn’t even register Zachary has spoken. He just keeps on rambling and for some strange fucked up reason Will sounds guilty, somewhere in this mess of emotions, there is guilt in his voice. There is guilt that Zachary doesn’t understand, because what does Will have to feel guilty about? And what does he mean with Hai telling him not to talk?

 

“Hai knows?” he croaks out, finally he finds his pants, pulls them on, not that it does much to preserve any of his dignity. “How does Hai know?”

 

“Hai doesn’t know shit!” Will suddenly snaps, turning away from Zachary completely. His hands are balled into fists, his shoulders trembling. “Just like I didn’t _know_ shit. Until now.“

 

“You-“ Zachary is on his feet within seconds, he wishes Will would turn around because he doesn’t dare to touch him again, not after Will hissing at him before. “You- Please don’t tell anyone else Please. This is so- Nobody needs to know-This is us. Just us, right?“

 

He couldn’t stand it if they, the rest of the team, his friends, his family of choice, if they looked at him like Will did only moments ago, if they looked at him the way he deserved it, Zachary doesn’t think he could stand it. And at the same time he knows it’s the wrong thing to say the second it’s too late. It’s like he never knows what to say, never thinks before words tumble out, like some braindead idiot.

 

It doesn’t matter who knows, apart from Will it shouldn’t matter who knows how badly Zachary fucked up, but for some obscure reason it does. Maybe it’s Zachary’s self-esteem, his inability to shut out what other people think or say about it him, maybe it’s that. Or maybe it’s the irrational idea that if nobody knows apart from them, that _they_ can figure it out for themselves first, just the two of them, Zachary and Will.

 

Everybody always seems so involved by nature into their relationship; they live and work together after all, got management and PR and all that shit. The idea of getting his boyfriend to forgive him for cheating while dealing with all the other shit from everybody else and their opinions on the matter, it terrifies Zachary beyond compare.

 

“Don’t tell anyone?” Will echoes. “I should get that tattooed on my forehead or something.”

 

Before Zachary can say anything in reply there’s a soft thud as Will’s fist hits the wall. There’s no force behind it, there is barely a noise, it’s nothing, but he does it and there’s something about it that makes Zachary’s heart clench.

 

Will is taking deep breaths like he’s trying to regain his composure, trying to calm himself and Zachary is unsure what to do. Should he reach out? No. Will told him not to touch him, even flinched away from him. Give him space? Probably? Maybe? It sounds right but even if Zachary wanted to he wouldn’t know how. They share a room, a house, a job. How do you give someone space if there’s no room for space in this life you are living?

 

Say something?

 

Say what? What words are there for him to say that won’t make this worse? Words that Will will allow him, anyway.

 

“Okay.” Will says, probably more to himself than Zachary. “Okay. Good. Yeah.”  He breathes out, rubbing the knuckles of his hand. “This is just…great.”

 

“Will-“

 

“You should,” Will clears his throat. “Probably go take a shower or something.”

 

 

***

 

Will doesn’t look at anyone in the living-room, just walks straight to the hallway, fishing his sneakers out of the pile of shoes. He doesn’t care if they heard him and Zachary argue (even though it hadn’t really much of an argument if he was being honest) or if they are looking at him weirdly, because he’s storming out of Zachary’s room like this.

 

Zachary is following him, calling after him, voice raspy and uneven.

 

It’s obvious that Zachary just had sex. At least to Will it is. His flush cheeks, the messed up hair and bitten lips tell enough. And yet, it’s clashing with the wild and undefined emotions that are written all over his face, making Zachary look wrecked in a way that is entirely uncharacteristic.

 

He’s not wearing any socks, just the pants he has thrown on and Will’s jumper, which he must have pulled it on in hurry without checking. Zachary usually never wears Will’s clothes because they make him feel small. He is now though, and he looks so lost in it, and the way that he’s standing there, staring at Will with guilty, pleading eyes, only adds to it. He’s not even wearing his glasses and there are still traces of tears on his face, like he barely took the time to wipe them away.

 

“Where are you going?” Zachary asks, his voice small and pained.

 

In the background Will hears Daerek muting the TV. The sound of the remote being placed on the couch table seems impossibly loud to Will, but maybe that’s just him concentrating on anything but the boy on front of him, on anything but what he did, what he admitted to.

 

Shutting down is Will’s first instinct, blocking everything out, distracting your mind with small, unimportant things until the thing that’s actually happing to you becomes only background noise. Dissociating yourself from reality. Will wants to do nothing but that right now and it should be easy, should be just like falling back into an old habit, but the look on Zachary’s face, something in his voice, it keeps him here, keeps him in reality and Will wants to hate him for it, wants to hate him for so many things.

 

“Will, where are you going?” Zachary repeats, reaching out, wrapping his small hand around Will’s wrist. This time Will manages to not flinch away, to just bear it, pressing his eyes shut for a split second.

 

Zachary touched someone else. With that hand. Feeling it on his skin now makes Will feel sick.

 

It doesn’t need much force to remove himself out of Zachary’s grip, taking a step back, getting some distance between them, and yet it feels almost impossible. The thought of willingly removing himself from Zachary’s touch feels more than just weird to him. It should be easier, after the past days of awkwardness of dancing around each other and avoidance, but for some reason it’s not. They are so used to being tangled up in each other’s space that there is no clear line any more, no separation.

 

It makes this so much harder.

 

“Well,” Will says, his throat feeling raw like he’s been the one crying, not Zachary. “I’m going to get tested, I suppose.”

 

There’s much more venom in his voice, much more spite than he intended and the truth is, he had no idea where he wanted to go just that he needed to get out, get out of that room, this house. Just out and breathe.

 

“Why w–“ Zachary stares at him in confusion, lips trembling just the slightest bit.

 

Will wonders if Zachary is aware of their audience, if that’s the reason why his voice is so low. It’s almost a whisper. Or if it’s just because the ridiculousness of this half-arsed question has caught up to him before he’s even finished saying it.

 

“Why would I?” Will wants to laugh. “Because you fucked somebody else. You fucked somebody else and then you went, and had sex with _me_. And you fucking said we didn’t need a condom. You-”

 

Somewhere behind Zachary Will can see Daerek awkwardly shuffling out of the room, pushing An along, while Charlie pretends to be busy with god knows what.

 

“We don’t!” Zachary half yells and he honestly looks upset. He. Zachary. He has the audacity to look upset, offended even, at Will’s words. Like Will betrayed him somehow, calling him out like this. It feels like a joke gone wrong and Will doesn’t know whether to laugh or to scream.

 

“We-“ Zachary starts and for a second Will thinks that if the next words out of Zachary’s mouth are something along the lines of ‘we haven’t used one in months’, he’s going to slam his head against a wall, but surprisingly enough Zachary doesn’t.

 

“I…used a condom. When I was… with her.” He says instead his voice unusually meek, unable or unwilling to look Will in the eyes.

 

_With her._

 

So it was a girl.  Will isn’t sure what he expected, what he imagined, but for some reason hearing this, hearing Zachary giving that faceless person a gender feels like a punch to the gut. Would it hurt less if it had been a guy? Probably not. Most certainly not. Just differently.

 

Now there’s another thought added to the mess of questions, explanations and theories racing inside his head. He hadn’t been enough for Zachary. Clearly. That’s why people cheat, don’t they? Because their partner isn’t enough, is not what they want, doesn’t give them what they need, whatever. That’s how it is, and the thought of Will’s shortcomings not just being him being a crap boyfriend but being the fact that he _is_ a boy, it’s like a whole new layer of humiliation. And unfairness.

 

And then there’s the fact, that Zachary put thought into it, into what happened. At least for a moment, he had the presence of mind to use a condom, and fuck, Will should be glad about that, be relieved, but the truth is, he’s not. He hates it. Because apparently, no matter how random or by chance this encounter Zachary had with this girl had been, he had still had a clear enough head to think about the possible consequences. And then proceeded to go through with it. Yes, he used protection, yes, he was ‘responsible’. But he fucked somebody else. He fucked some girl and had time to think about using a goddamn condom, but not about Will.

 

Or maybe he did think about Will. Maybe he did, but still went through with it. Maybe Will just hadn’t mattered enough.

 

Zachary is still looking at him like he’s waiting for a reply of some sort, a reaction at least, but Will isn’t sure what he can offer Zachary in that regard. He’s just standing there, one sneaker on, the other in his hand, looking at the guy he’s been in love with for so long, unable to truly comprehend what is happening.

 

“Will-“ Zachary  says and never has his name out of Zachary’s mouth made Will feel so cold.

 

“What? You want a fucking medal?” Will smiles bitterly. “A gold star? ‘Not as much of a dick as you could have been’ _?_ Hm? Or do you prefer ‘I didn’t infect my boyfriend with an STD yay me’? Fucking great, right? Congratulations, Zachary.”

 

“Fuck you, Will! I-“

 

Zachary cuts himself off. He’s said it on instinct probably. An instant reaction to being attacked. But he stops himself, stares at Will helplessly, so maybe, maybe he realizes that he has no right to play hurt.

 

“Guys!”

 

Zachary jumps a little, startled probably, turning around to where Hai is standing behind him.

 

Hai is wearing a stern expression, mixed with worry and unease as he eyes them both. “What’s going on?” he asks carefully.

 

Will isn’t sure if it’s team captain Hai approaching them or their friend Hai and to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t give a fuck, because this is ridiculous. Hai is being ridiculous. Hai _knows,_ Hai fucking knows what this must be about, so him acting like he doesn’t know shit is infuriating to say the least. Will would prefer him yelling, yelling at Will for disobeying him, for not waiting till after playoffs. Anger is easy. Will knows anger. It’s not pretty, not nice, but it’s easy. It’s familiar.

 

“Oh fuck off.” Will hisses and for a moment Hai actually looks taken aback by that reaction, but Will couldn’t care less.  “You goddamn know what’s going on. Zachary-“

 

He finds himself halting. The words are on his lips, he wants to say them, wants to see Zachary cringe and shrink under the guilt. He wants Zachary to hurt, to feel it, to be ashamed, to have it spoken in front of one of their friends, even if that friend already knows.

 

But he can’t.

 

He can’t because despite it being absolutely irrational and stupid, Will is the one feeling ashamed. He feels humiliated by this, by his boyfriend cheating. He feels like a goddamn fool, like an idiot for believing in this, in love, in them, for believing in this thing between him and Zachary being enough for the both of them, believing _he_ could be enough for somebody.

 

Zachary remains silent. He’s looking at neither Hai nor Will. He just has his eyes focused on the floor between his feet. Whatever he wanted to say before Hai interrupted, or rather before he cut himself off, it’s gone.

 

“I’m gonna go for a walk.” Will declares and even though Hai opens his mouth like he’s going to object, he doesn’t. And Will would wonder why, but the tiny shake of the head Zachary gives Hai as he tugs on his sleeve is explanation enough.

 

“We got scrims in an hour!” he hears Hai yell after him as the door falls shut, but Will barely registers it.

 

A part of him is thankful for Zachary allowing him this, standing up to Hai, to let Will have this moment to take a breath. But the other part of him, the weirdly romantic part wishes Zachary would come after him, despite the fact that just looking at him right now hurts. His emotions don’t make sense to Will at the best of times, but right now they are just messed up beyond compare.

 

He hasn’t walked out of the house with some sort of plan in mind, a goal or anything like that. He just wanted out, out of that cramped house and away from everyone. Away from Zachary.

 

What a strange thought. Wanting to be away from Zachary.

 

He is walking now, putting one foot in front of the other, step after step, until he has reached the intersection at the end of the street.

 

Left or right? Or crossing the street? Will doesn’t know, doesn’t really have the energy to think about it now, so he just sits down, right there on the pavement like some idiot, burying his face in his hands.

 

He hates this. Everything about this. He hates what Zachary did, how he had to say it first, because Zachary could. He hates how it hurts, how it makes him feel so ashamed and stupid, and how his mind seems unable to deal with this. It hasn’t been a surprise, not really, Will had suspected it after all and yet he feels so incredibly helpless. This is new, this type of hurt, he has no plan for this, no way to cope, it’s too fresh and raw and unfamiliar.

 

A car passes by and Will tries to focus on that. It’s black, foreign brand, SUV, California state plate. It’s unimportant. It doesn’t matter. And it’s not enough. He can’t do it, can’t distract himself. This is too different. Zachary cheated and Will’s mind refuses to move on from that thought.

 

As a child Will had always liked watching traffic go by, liked to count the different colors, red and black and grey, mostly, but sometimes something exciting like yellow or some shade of blue. His mother never had liked that habit of his, mostly because sometimes, little Will had walked too close to the street, getting too distracted by this little game of his.

 

When Will had gotten older it had become different. Will remembers the times when he would have trouble sleeping, never really feeling safe in his own bed, just lying there, waiting in the dark. He had distracted himself by listening to the sound of cars going by, had made it into his own strange lullaby.

 

But now the car game doesn’t work anymore. All it's doing for Will, is some weird nostalgia bubbling up inside of him alongside all the other emotions. Which in itself is quite strange, because rationally, Will knows that there isn’t much to be nostalgic about. No simpler times. Somehow, for some reason, there was always something. It has never been calm and easy; there has always been stuff that was making Will’s head hurt, making life complicated and agitating.

 

On the other side of the street there’s a girl walking by with her dog. She’s talking to someone on her phone and usually Will would barely look, probably not even notice her. But her voice, even though it remains unintelligible, carries over the sound of cars passing by and Will looks. Looks at her dark hair in a messy bun and the green sweater jacket she’s wearing along with yoga pants and matching sneakers.

 

She’s probably pretty, Will guesses. The yoga pants are tight fitting and she has a bright laugh. He doesn’t know her and neither does Zachary for all Will knows, but there are those words echoing inside Will’s head nonetheless. Talking about _being with her._ Her. Some girl. Somewhere. Who now knows the taste of Zachary’s lips, knows how it feels like to have Zachary smile into a kiss and how smooth his chest is. Will hates the thought and he hates looking at that girl across the street and imagining it to be her. Hating her for that imaginary picture conjured up by his brain where she kisses Zachary, goes on her knees for him, lets him fuck her.

 

It’s not fair. He doesn’t know this girl and yet, right now, he hates her with all he’s got for something she didn’t even do, doesn’t even know about.

 

The worst about this, about the fact that it was a girl hitting Will so hard, is that it’s completely stupid and irrelevant. And that most of all, he had known. He had found the lipstick stains on Zachary’s shirt. He had seen it, but the actual words, having that confirmation, that’s a whole different story; and at the same time it’s not. Because maybe, maybe Will should have seen this coming.

 

Will always knew in the back of his mind that Zachary didn’t have stuff figured out as much as they both liked to pretend. He just doesn’t really understand why. Sure he doesn’t understand a lot of things about this whole situation, but he’s always known about  the struggle Zachary has always had with his and Will’s sexuality, with the fact that he was in a relationship with a guy. Will had pushed it aside, preferred not to think about it, but he had known.

 

There had been instances, where it had been clear that despite seemingly being very much into his _thing_ with Will, Zachary wasn’t really on board with the whole liking guys thing. There’s been that one time where they had watched some show with An and Daerek and there had been a kiss onscreen. Two guys kissing, not long, just a couple of seconds and yet, Zachary had mumbled something about how _they didn’t need to show that, did they,_ clearly uncomfortable.

 

Will hadn’t said anything and neither had any of the others, even though Daerek had glanced at the both of them questioningly. Will had just shrugged. He had just assumed that Zachary would eventually come to terms with it as their relationship proceeded.

 

He, on the other hand, has always known that he was gay. He isn’t sure how or why, but he knew. As long as he can remember he knew. He knew when Audrey Miller wanted to marry him under the slide of the playground near their house when he was 5. He knew when he was 8 and the kids in school made fun of him when he drew two boys holding hands in arts class. He knew when he was 12 and had his first crush on a guy from two grades above him, whose name was Matthew and who could skate.

 

He had never realized that knowing who he was, what he wanted was some sort of privilege, something that not everybody had.

 

His mom had known too. Will doesn’t know when exactly she had figured it out, but then she had never seemed surprised or taken aback when he had mentioned something about liking boys or being gay. She had just gone with it, had only told him not to tell his dad, to keep it to himself, because, and Will still remembers her exact words, _dad wouldn’t understand_.

 

He hadn’t fully grasped at that time _what_ exactly his dad wouldn’t understand, hadn’t really seen what there was to understand about it anyway. But he had done as he was told, hadn’t talked about it. Not to his dad, not to his brother, not to anyone.

 

_Don’t talk. Don’t tell._

 

He had done as it was asked of him and yet, somehow, his dad had figured it out. Will still remembers wondering how he knew after his dad had drunkenly slurred ‘faggot’ into Will’s ear, when he had come into his room that night.

 

Will still remembers eventually realizing that his dad didn’t know shit about anything, let alone his son.

 

On one of the rare occasions were him and Zachary had actually gotten close to talking about this kind of stuff, Zachary had asked him, casually and yet, his voice kind of timid, how Will could have known so early, how could he have known as a child without even having a basic understanding of sex or sexuality yet. To Zachary’s dissatisfaction, Will had not had an answer ready, and they had never really attempted to talk about it again. So Will had been left with trying to figure things out by himself.

 

When Will had been a child, knowing he was gay, it had mostly been about romantic attraction, because obviously he had been too young and innocent to even really understand sex or physical attraction of any sort.  It had just been a matter of liking boys in a different way than girls.

 

And then Will had turned thirteen and things had changed. Boys his age had started talking about girls, making obnoxious pseudo grown up comments about tits and everything. Had started getting crushes, real crushes, and eventually girlfriends.

 

But Will hadn’t. Will hadn’t because at 13, and 14 and a long time after that, the thought of sex had made him nauseous. The idea of actually wanting somebody to touch him had been far beyond his comprehension. His father had made sure of that, stumbling into his bedroom at night, reeking of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands rough and angry.

 

Will doesn’t understand why he’s thinking about this now, why his mind is going back there, jumping from one hurtful thing to another, drawing connections he doesn’t want to see, but at the same time, in a strange fucked up way, it’s distracting. It’s no longer just the pure all-consuming fact of Zachary having fucked somebody else. It’s more now. Wider branched. Easier to get lost in it.

 

Will hasn’t managed to focus on small, unimportant things, hasn’t manage to let his mind wander there, but at least this, this works. This is familiar pain, this is something he has already dealt with, something he knows how to think about without it hurting too much.

 

It doesn’t hurt too much because it is over. Not the pain of it, not the anger and sadness, but what had caused it. It had ended and things had changed for the better. Life had become good and then, then even better.

 

Will had met Zachary. Had become his friend. His best friend. And eventually more.

 

Meeting Zachary, falling for him, it had felt like a miracle. Like a confirmation. Wanting Zachary, longing for his touch, it felt so strange and so good at the same time. In a way, it had felt like fate. As if Zachary showing up, Will being attracted to him, all of it was a sign, the universe telling Will that he was okay. That he wasn’t totally messed up in the head, not beyond repair. That what he had known _before_ his dad, still stood true _after_. That he hadn’t taken away that part of Will permanently.

 

It had felt good, had felt right, wanting to kiss his best friend, wanting to touch him, be touched by him. He had felt so happy about it, despite the pain and hurt that came with it.

 

None of it had been because of the fact that Zachary was a guy, that they both were, at least not from Will’s point of view. Despite everything Will had never been on bad terms with his sexuality, had never hated himself for it, wanted to change it.

 

He knew of course that not everybody felt that way. Zachary didn’t. But he hadn’t realized at first, how deep-rooted this internalized struggle of his really was. That it wasn’t just the novelty of it, not just initial insecurities.

 

When Will had begun to realize how difficult this whole thing of just _being_ with Will was for Zachary, they’d been too far gone already, too comfortable in their ways. They didn’t talk, especially not about stuff like this - mostly because Zachary either completely blocked the topic or made joke after joke until a serious conversation was out of question.

 

And Will had never really pushed, had learned to be content with what Zachary was willing to offer.

 

Zachary having stopped saying ‘no homo’ after every time they fooled around, had felt like a huge win in that department at the time.

 

Sure it hurt when Zachary still claimed he was straight at any given opportunity, but hurt had in a way always been part of the package for Will, especially when it came to sex, and that was, after all, what they had built their relationship on.

 

So he had taken it, just went with it, hadn’t called Zachary out on it.

 

Now he wishes he had. He wishes he had pushed, and asked, and prodded and gotten Zachary to talk, so that he would have been forced to figuring himself out, no matter how things might turn out. Because now they are here, this is where this got them. The end of the line.

 

A part of Will had just assumed, had hoped, that after a year of being with Will, of being happy with him, Zachary would come to the realization that he did like girls _and_ boys on his own. And that that was okay. But apparently he hadn’t. Apparently, being with Will hadn’t been enough for that.

 

Apparently Zachary had felt the need to prove his manliness by going out and fucking some random chick because why the hell not. Maybe he had to prove himself that he could still do it, still get a girl. Prove himself that he wasn’t gay or some shit like that.

 

Or perhaps, it had been the opposite. Maybe Zachary had gotten bored with Will, had decided to try pussy again for a change, go back to girls because boys weren’t his thing after all and he just hadn’t had the guts to tell Will yet.

 

Will doesn’t know what would be worse: the problem being _him_ , or the problem being Zachary’s twisted view on sexuality and manliness, and his sense of self-worth being too closely tied to those things.

 

There are so many messed up questions racing through his brain that it makes Will’s head hurt. He wishes he could stop this, this spiral of question after question, doubt over doubt, getting worse and worse each second. But he can’t. Distracting himself is not working anymore. He’s back in the present, the new pain, the hurt, the betrayal. This happened. Zachary cheated.

 

And Will should have seen it coming.

 

He can’t help but wonder how he could have been so wrong. He had fooled himself into thinking Zachary would change, would come to terms with this, because surely after a year he would have. If it was ever going to happen.

 

There are countless of explanations Will can come up with, one more humiliating than the other. There is the sinking realization that falling in love with Zachary might have been a miracle for Will, but falling for Will had been the complete opposite for Zachary. If he ever fell for him at all. If it all wasn’t just some elaborate no-homo-hoax that got out of control at some point.

 

Of course that’s bullshit. Of course Will knows, rationally, that it couldn’t just have been a joke. That just because making jokes about being gay, fucking ass, sucking dick is something Zachary can do while struggling with the actual reality of those things, it doesn’t mean that Zachary is a heartless prick who would just play his allegedly best friend like this.

 

But it’s there. The idea, the fear is there. Along with all the other options.

 

Maybe Jena was right.

 

It’s a possibility that Will doesn’t even want to start thinking about, but it is an option. Maybe it was all a lie. All of it. Everything. Maybe Zachary never fell for him. Maybe it was just how _she_ had said that night, Will being a convenient set of hole for Zachary to put his dick into. Maybe he wasn’t anything to Zachary and everything between them, every ‘I like like you’, every kiss, every touch, even the half assed admission of ‘I didn’t love you yet’, maybe it was all just Will fooling himself into thinking that his father was wrong. That he _is_ loveable after all.

 

But maybe he isn’t.

 

Maybe it was Zachary lying and Will being either the stupidest person in the whole world or a horrible arsehole who forced himself and his sexuality onto Zachary.

 

And now Will is sitting here, on the goddamn pavement a couple of hundred meters away from the house and he doesn’t know what to think or to feel. He just wishes the emptiness back, the dreadful anticipation of the past days. Yes it had been bad, yes it had driven him crazy, but it had been better than this, better than _knowing_.

 

 

***

 

 

 “Hey.” Zachary says as Will slips into the room. It’s not even 1 a.m. but Zachary seems exhausted. He looks tired, has got his legs tugged up under him where he’s sitting at his desk, already wearing his pyjamas. Will would find it cute if he didn’t feel so empty, drained by a day of pretending, of focusing on the game, on practice, when his thoughts always wandered in that one direction. To Zachary. To Zachary and mystery girl.

 

Scrims had gone terribly. Of course they had and to be fair, _‘terrible’_ was an understatement. Scrims had been a fucking catastrophe, a disaster, a train wreck, whatever you choose to call it. It had been bad and everybody had known why. Who to blame. And yet nobody had. There had been no long discussion, no scolding or analysis afterwards. Just dead silence, awkward glances and an almost tangible uneasy tension within the whole team. Nobody had mentioned what had happened this morning. Not Hai, not Jack, no one. Not even Will or Zachary.

 

In fact Will hadn’t spoken a word to Zachary outside of the game since he had come back from his little walk, and Zachary hadn’t tried to initiate anything. 

 

Will had put it off for as long as he could, returning to Zachary’s room, and a part of him had hoped that when he did, Zachary would already be asleep. But of course he isn’t. Will should have known. It’s a thing they do, wait for each other to go to sleep. Sure, sometimes Zachary still streams when Will is already in bed, but that’s different. That’s them being in each other’s company. Will listening to Zachary’s voice, to his laugh. It’s comfortable and nice and just a part of _them._

 

This now is different. None of this is _them_ anymore and Will feels so out of his depth simply from walking into Zachary’s room.

 

Zachary waited for him, hasn’t gone to bed yet. He’s getting up now, a bit awkwardly tugging at the sleeves of his shirt.

 

Will swallows and doesn’t say anything, opts for looking away, going straight for the bed. “I just need my phone charger.” He explains, crouching down to plug it out of the power outlet, while Zachary remains unmoving next to his desk.

 

“Aren’t you…?” Zachary begins hesitantly.

 

Will closes his eyes. He had hoped in vain he’d get in and out without having a conversation with Zachary, or rather an interaction of some sort. An actual conversation would be a surprise. Not that they are allowed to have one. Or are they? Will has no idea if the _don’t talk till after playoffs_ rule is still intact, but something inside him is bridling at the very thought of actually talking. Those rules, _don’t talk, don’t tell_ , again and again, it’s almost like they are a part of Will. It makes it so hard to separate himself and what he does from them.

 

“Aren’t I what?” Will asks, clutching the phone charger in hand.

 

Zachary shifts a little. He’s not wearing any socks and Will knows how cold Zachary’s feet always get, especially when he’s barefooted. “We sleep in my room…” he says, adding after a moment “Usually.”

 

Like Will doesn’t know that.

 

He still nods though. He has a hundred replies burning on his tongue, one meaner than the next. He wants to snap that this is not _usually, is it,_ that Zachary can’t honestly expect him to willingly climb into bed with him tonight. That he’s a fucking prick for not asking Will to stay but talking around it, stating how it usually is, like the coward he is, never saying what he really wants outright.

 

In the end, Will just ends up shrugging lamely, walking back to the door as quickly as he can without running. He’s got the hand on the door handle before Zachary speaks. It’s not even a full sentence. Just a quiet “Will.” Barely loud enough for Will to hear.

 

He turns around nevertheless, looking at Zachary expectantly, who fumbles with his fringe for a moment too long so that Will almost thinks he has imagined it, Zachary saying his name, but then he looks at Will.

 

“Please.” He says timidly, letting out a shuddery breath “Don’t go.”

 

Will doesn’t know if Zachary is aware of the fact that sleeping in his own room, alone, without him, it’s not easy for Will either, that it’s not something Will is looking forward to. In fact he absolutely dreads it, having gotten so used to having Zachary around. He knows that Zachary is a fitful sleeper and that it’s better when Will is near. Zachary had mentioned it once or twice, mostly hidden inside a joke, because that way it’s easier for Zachary to admit weakness. Has laughed and said he needed somebody to suck his dick to fall asleep or something like that.

 

What Zachary doesn’t know is that without him, without Zachary with him, Will isn’t the calm and heavy sleeper Zachary believes him to be. Some nights, when he’s back home in his old room, or that one time at Allstars, where the two of them didn’t get to share a room, Will barely sleeps at all.

 

It’s like in those annoying video games, where they only let you sleep when it’s safe. Otherwise you can’t. Your character just doesn’t do it. It says ‘you can’t sleep when there are monsters nearby’.

 

Old habits die hard. And even if Will knows there aren’t any monsters (not anymore), often times he just subconsciously doesn’t feel safe. With Zachary he does. But now it’s all different. Because Zachary broke Will’s trust, his heart. He fucked some girl and made Will doubt everything about him, about them.

 

Now Will just can’t look at their- no, Zachary’s bed the same. Can’t look at Zachary the same.

 

“Will please.” Zachary repeats, this time louder. He’s got his lips pressed together, maybe to keep them from trembling.

 

“No.” Will whispers, turning back around, but before he can open the door, even press the door handle, arms wrap around him. Will barely heard the tap tap tap of Zachary’s feet on the floor and suddenly he’s there, arms closed around Will’s chest, pressed against his back, so close Will can feel his warm breath through the fabric of his T-shirt.

 

For a moment it’s like he’s paralyzed. He had not really expected for Zachary to actually physically try to stop him from leaving. It’s surprisingly desperate and open and vulnerable. It catches Will a little bit off-guard. He doesn’t want to feel compassionate towards Zachary right now. He doesn’t want to feel the instinct to melt into the hug, fighting against the urge to push Zachary away, to scream at him, make him understand how much he’s hurting right now.

 

“Stop.” Will gets out through gritted teeth, but it doesn’t sound nearly as venomous and angry as it should. Meek and shallow. He’s surprised it comes out at all.

 

“Will.” Zachary says again, like a broken record, stuck at the same part.

 

Will can’t stand this. The physical closeness between them right now, Zachary touching him, it feels wrong and overwhelming.

 

“Don’t touch me.” Will carefully pronounced each word, making sure it’s clear and articulate, the least shaky he can manage. “Stop. Touching me. Stop.”

 

“Will, please!” Zachary repeats, with more urgency this time, but at least he lets go of Will, allows him to breathe in again, fill his lungs with air, his back now against the door, looking at Zachary. “Will I’m sorry. I’m- I know I fucked up. I know, but- Will please- I-“

 

“Zach-“ Will tries to cut Zachary off, because no. no. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want Zachary to say this, he can’t, because it’s empty, hollow, half-assed apologies and non-explanations. Will can’t bear that right now. Not like this, not with the wound still too fresh and them technically still not fucking being allowed to talk about any of this.

 

Will saw Hai’s glares during practice, the twist around his mouth and sharpness in his voice. He’s pissed. Pissed and worried. But Will can’t think about that right now, because Zachary is still talking.

 

“-I can’t stand you hating me.” Zachary ends, twisting his fingers like he’s not sure what to do with them now that he’s not holding Will anymore.

 

_Maybe you should have thought about that before you cheated on me,_ Will wants to say.

 

“I don’t hate you.” he ends up whispering, but god he wishes he did. If he did hate Zachary, this wouldn’t hurt so much.

 

For half an eternity they just look at each other, then Zachary’s hands find their way to Will’s shirt. They tug at the collar, until Will leans down a little, so Zachary can press his lips on Will’s. He doesn’t return the kiss, but he doesn’t pull away either.

 

“You don’t hate me.”

 

Zachary sounds so relieved, so thankful, like it’s everything he needed, everything he wanted, like those few words are his absolution, even as hollow and feeble as they were spoken.

 

“Don’t ever hate me.” He kisses Will again, has to go on his tiptoes to do so, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck. “Please.”

 

Kissing Zachary, or rather being kissed by him, always does something for Will. From the very beginning. Zachary hadn’t been Will’s first kiss, but the first that had mattered. The first time he had found the courage to press their lips together, feeling Zachary’s lips against his own, Will could feel it in his whole body. For days after, every time he saw somebody kiss, on the streets, in a movie, a tv-show, a comic, every time he thought about Zachary. About the softness of his lips, the taste of his tongue, his movements, the sounds he made, everything.

 

Now it’s the same feeling again, just inverted. Twisted inside out. Now it’s not metaphorical butterflies that Will can feel in his stomach. All Will can think about as he feels Zachary kissing him, is all the other people Zachary has kissed, might have kissed. How did he move then? Did he cup her jaw the way he’s doing it with Will now? Did he also let out that soft sigh, his eyes fluttering shut, his body pressing against Will?

 

It’s still a slow kiss, still very hesitant for them, but Will can feel Zachary moving closer, picking up the pace in an all too familiar way. He knows how to make Will open his mouth, letting him deepen the kiss in a way that makes Will’s stomach clench, his fingers cramping into the fabric of Zachary’s shirt.

 

He wonders if Zachary is thinking about it too. Him kissing other people. It’s another thing added to the list of Will’s fears, born today when Zachary confessed. How often did Zachary think about kissing other people when his lips moved against Will’s? How often did he imagine it to be some girl he was fucking? How often did Will make a complete fool out of himself?

 

Much like he’s doing right now.

 

Zachary is kissing him and Will’s body reacts. He doesn’t want it to, or rather he doesn’t want it to feel like this, like a lie. There are a lot of things Will didn’t want, his boyfriend cheating for example, but it’s not like he’s got a say in those things.

 

“Will?” Zachary whispers and oh, Will hadn’t noticed that Zachary had stopped kissing him. He has taken a step back and Will lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

 

“I-“ Will clears his throat, ungracefully stepping around Zachary, ruffling his hair with one hand. “I’m gonna go get changed it’s- I’m pretty tired.” He nods to himself, quickly grabbing his sleeping clothes.

 

Zachary seems unsure about what to do. At least he doesn’t stop Will again.

 

“Are you gonna-“

 

“Yes.” Will cuts him off quickly. “I’m gonna be back in a couple of minutes.”

 

Zachary doesn’t comment on the fact that usually they have no problem with changing in front of each other and Will wants to think that maybe it’s because Zachary gets it. That Zachary understands, how vulnerable Will feels in this moment. How vulnerable and confused and foolish and just not at ease with being near Zachary Will is right now, let alone exposing himself in front of him.

 

Will changes quickly in the bathroom, brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed without looking in the mirror once. He isn’t sure why. He isn’t going to look any differently. Rationally, he knows that. But he feels different. Just this morning he has woken up next to Zachary, kissed him, has felt Zachary’s body under him, his quick breath, his lips on his skin. He had wanted to stay in that bed forever. Now the very notion of sharing a bed with Zachary tonight feels like forgiveness he’s just not ready to give yet.

 

He almost walks back to his own room, almost walks past Zachary’s door even though he promised he would be back. But he can’t. In the end he slips into the room, like he has done almost every night in the past year. He walks to his side of the bed, and climbs under his side of the blanket. He plugs his phone in the charger on his nightstand and places his glasses next to them. Zachary doesn’t say a word, before they switch the light off. Will doesn’t look at him, just quickly rolls onto his side, so that Zachary is facing his back.

 

He lied. He’s not tired. Not at all. He doubts he’ll be able to sleep at all with so many restless thoughts circling in his head.

 

They lay in silence for what feels like hours. Will knows Zachary isn’t asleep, the restless shifting, turning from one side to the other is telltale sign enough, but it’s not like Will is any better. Unlike Zachary though, he is laying completely still, trying to move as little as possible.

 

He feels a little like you feel when someone made you aware of your own breathing and now every intake of breath is painfully obvious. Restless and irritated but at the same time so, so tired. Only, not in a physical way. Physically he feels tense, agitated and his left arm is a little numb from lying in the same position for too long. Will tries to concentrate on that so he doesn’t have to think about the boy next to him and what he did. But the thing with not wanting to think about something, is that you always end up doing it anyway.

 

Usually when Will can’t sleep, when his head is keeping him awake with this or that, he turns to Zachary. Zachary is the same as him. When they can’t sleep, don’t want to think or talk, whatever, they fuck.

 

The thought of doing that now makes Will’s stomach turn. But eventually he still turns, tentatively, letting his fingers brush against Zachary’s shoulder, prompting him to roll over as well. Will swallows, glad that Zachary can’t really see his face in the dark and leans in. Trying to recall kisses from _before_ helps a little. He doesn’t feel too uncomfortable pressing his lips against Zachary’s when he relives their first kiss after the season break, after returning from holiday, after being separated. It’s not too bad. Zachary kisses him back carefully and it’s not too bad.

 

Not too bad.

 

Will wants to cry. Describing a kiss with the boy he loves with _not too bad_ sounds like a fucking bad joke. And not the good kind.

 

“Will…” Zachary sighs and suddenly there is a hand cupping Will’s jaw, pulling him in and Will freezes. They kissed tenderly before, they kissed rough, sloppy, angry, loving, you name it. And yet, something about this feels wrong and Will can’t separate their lips fast enough, pressing his hand against Zachary’s chest to bring distance between them before he even fully registers what he is doing.

 

“Sorry.” Will almost laughs, almost cries. “I can’t.” It’s only then, as he says it, that he realizes how true it is. He can’t kiss Zachary right now. He can’t, because he needs to keep his mind off the fact that Zachary fucked somebody else and kissing him, kissing him does the complete opposite.

 

Suddenly the bedside lamp is flicked on and Will quickly hides his face behind his hands. He can’t bear Zachary looking at him right now.

 

“Please don’t touch me.” Will whispers and the fact that Zachary doesn’t argue that Will was the one who kissed him, who initiated, like he usually would, makes Will feel a little bit better. Not much, but it’s something. He takes in a deep breath, before looking at Zachary. “Please don’t.”

 

Zachary almost visibly recoils at the rejection, like Will struck him. “You don’t want to?”

 

“I can’t stop thinking about it. You with…somebody else.” Will explains truthfully, while Zachary looks away, probably unable to keep eye contact. “You touch me and I- my mind just goes there. I can’t. I can’t have you touch me. Kiss me. Be…be near you. I’m sorry.”

 

“…ok.” Zachary says after a pause, his voice sounding incredibly small.

 

“Thank you.” Will says before he can think about it.

 

Of course Zachary frowns. “What?”

 

“Nothing.” Will forces a smile onto his lips. This is not the moment for Zachary to hear that there was a time where ‘don’t touch me’ didn’t have any weight coming from Will. Doesn’t have anything to do with this anyway.

 

This is just between them. Between Will and Zachary. And whoever Zachary has fucked.

 

Will has to awkwardly reach over Zachary to flick off the light again, but somehow he manages, without touching Zachary more than through an accidental brush of skin against skin, which Zachary doesn’t comment on.

 

And just like that, they are back to deafening silence only broken by the occasional rusting of sheets and the sound of Zachary’s breathing. It barely takes 10 minutes though until Zachary speaks again.

 

“So this is it?” he asks into the darkness and Will can practically hear his lips trembling.

 

“This is what?”

 

“Us.” Zachary lets out a shaky breath. “Being over. This is it, right?”

 

“Zach-“

 

Will feels like he’s being choked. Is this it? Is this the end of them? It should be, right? That’s what happens, when you are cheated on. You break it off, you scream and yell and hate. You say it’s over. You see it as what it is and get out, because you are worth more than that, you deserve better, whatever. All this shit. That’s what’s supposed to happen and yet Will can’t find the words, can’t say it, any of it.

 

This is Zachary. Still his Zachary. His best fucking friend. The boy he loves and who made him so happy so many times.

 

“I- it can’t end just like this.” Zachary continues, sounding so desperate, it’s killing Will, “It can’t. I fucked up, yes, but- C’mon. Will- It can’t.”

 

“It’s not.” Will says silently, rubbing his face with his hands. _It’s not ending._

 

“It’s not?”

 

“No.”

 

“So…” Will can hear the rusting of sheets as Zachary rolls onto his side to face Will, but Will doesn’t look at him. “So you aren’t breaking up with me?”

 

Will can feel his heart beating against his ribcage as he opens his mouth with no idea what to say. Of course nothing comes out. He can feel Zachary’s eyes on him in the dark and it makes everything inside him feel so tense, like he’s supposed to answer a question in front of the whole class without knowing the answer, when he _should_ know.

 

“Will!”

 

“I- I don’t kn- no.” Will feels like crying. No. The answer is no. “No I’m not. I’m- Right now, I’m not...breaking up with you.”

 

Zachary lets out a tiny almost inaudible surprised “Oh.” Followed by a louder more sure sounding “Ok.”

 

Will doesn’t have the energy right now to think about it, if this is Zachary pretending now, acting tough and unaffected now that he has the confirmation Will isn’t dumping him, because he’s embarrassed by his pervious vulnerability. Or if maybe him being desperate and pleading before was the act, and this is the truth now. Will doesn’t know. He feels like he doesn’t know anything at all. Let alone about Zachary.

 

“…I know I fucked up.” Zachary says quietly after a while.

 

Will doesn’t know where Zachary is going with this, why he is still talking, if he’s trying to coax anything out of Will or if it’ll lead to another hollow apology or half explanation that they aren’t allowed anyway.

 

“Yeah.” Is all he says.

“But Will,” Will freezes when he feels Zachary’s hand on his shoulder. He can feel the warmth through his shirt. “Will, you gotta understand I-“

 

“Shut up.” Will pleads, shrugging of Zachary’s hand as quickly as he can. “Just shut up, please.”

 

“But-“

 

“I don’t have to understand shit, okay?” Will snaps, surprised by the harshness of his own words. It hurts, it hurts so badly and he doesn’t get how Zachary can just expect him to say all those things right now, to sleep in this bed, to tell him it’s not over, to tell him they aren’t breaking up, to fucking tell him he forgives him? That it’s okay? That he fucking understands?

 

“Fuck this. We _all_ had a rough split, _Sneaky_. We all felt shit. And yes, I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I- that I wasn’t enough for you, that I couldn’t give you what you needed. Validation, appreciation, impromptu blowjobs, a tight pussy. Whatever. Screw you for thinking that fucking some random chick would make things better. Fuck you. How could you think that me, us, the team- I- ”

 

“I thought no talking? About this? You said-” Zachary cuts Will off. Despite hisvoice sounding meek and more than just a little uncomfortable this simple sentence makes Will feels so furious. Like Zachary isn’t taking him seriously. Throwing this back at Will just when _he_ started talking. It’s like rules only ever apply to Will while everyone else goes around bending and breaking them as they please.

 

“Fuck you.” Will whispers, “Was it worth it?” fuck Zachary fuck, Hai, Fuck this. He deserves a few answers. He deserves to ask questions. “Did it make it better? At least for that half an hour or whatever, did you feel better? Did you feel good about yourself? Manly and straight and cool and-“ he cuts himself off. “Was it worth it?” he asks again more calmly, almost whispering now. “Was it worth screwing us over for?”

 

“It wasn’t- It was…like twelve minutes or something I-“ Zachary mumbles.

 

It’s not like Will expected anything else, but it still feels like a bad joke that Zachary, as usual, chooses to comment on the least relevant, least important thing Will said. It’s easier that way, Will understands. Like this he doesn’t have to say anything that holds any weight, just useless, mindless words. It’s a joke. It’s a bad joke.

 

So Will laughs.

 

“Well that’s just great.” He manages after a few moments, his chest heaving with laughter. “Just fucking great. You screwed us over for an r-rated, extended version of seven minutes in heaven.” He can’t stop laughing. His throat is hurting and he can feel tears rising up in his eyes. “Really great.”

 

“I- I fucked up.” Zachary repeats slowly, sounding confused and unsure, but Will just can’t stop laughing. Zachary must think he’s lost his mind.

 

Maybe he has.

 

“You are a fucking arsehole.” He gets out after letting out something between a sob and a giggle.

 

“Yeah.” Zachary agrees quietly.

 

He’s trying to smile, to laugh too but he can’t quite manage so he falls silent again quickly enough and all Will can hear is his own laughter that quickly fades into sobbing and before he knows it he’s full on crying. Right here, in this bed, with Zachary next to him, he cries. He can’t stop it, the tears just won’t stop flowing and it’s so hard to take breaths between each sob, because his chest is hurting and he doesn’t know what to concentrate on, Zachary’s silence or the rhythm of his own breathing.

 

Will realizes how undignified and embarrassing this is, not crying in itself, but crying in front of Zachary, the very person who hurt him, who made him feels so vulnerable and ashamed and stupid. It’s so ridiculous but he can barely breathe, let alone get up and leave the room. He claws his fingers into the front of his t-shirt, just to have something to hold onto. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to handle this. Zachary fucked somebody else. Zachary doesn’t love Will. Maybe he never did. Will fucked up. He wanted Zachary to love him so badly, and here they are now. Will crying like a child and Zachary not saying anything, because really, what is there to say? He got what he wanted. Will told him they aren’t over. He told him that he doesn’t hate him, isn’t breaking up with him.

 

For Zachary nothing changed. He has still got Will. For whatever reason that might matter. Maybe for the team. They can’t fall apart. Can’t fuck up. Hai told him, it’s not just them this is affecting. It’s the team.

 

Will knows he needs to pull himself together, he’s trying. He’s trying to steady his breath, stifle his sobs, and stop the tears from falling. And slowly but surely it works. He calms a little and eventually, after who knows how long it’s just the occasional whimper and sob that disturb the silence between them.

 

Will takes in a ragged breath, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. His head hurts. Or rather everything does, on some weird spiritual level or something. He can’t explain it, doesn’t want to. He just knows that he can’t stay here tonight. He tried. Tried for Zachary for himself, but he can’t. Tonight he’s not strong enough.

 

“You are going to your room?” Zachary asks quietly when Will carefully peels off the covers, slipping out of bed, without switching on the light.

 

Will hesitates, but then he nods. “Yeah. I… Zachary, I can’t. I can’t sleep in the same bed as you right now. I‘m sorry.”

 

This time Zachary doesn’t stop him.

 

And if he does call his name, just as the door falls shut, it’s probably just Will’s imagination.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no smut this chapter but next one will have some again I promise. Also I'm sorry this got so long idk I'll try to keep it shorter next chapter. Anyway i hope you liked this chapter and if you did please tell me, because I'm telling you this chapter actually took a ton of work and tears until it was readable (a thousand thanks to Ali for putting up with me).
> 
> So please comment bc in the following weeks/month i need extra motivation (work stuff going on tahtr equitres a lot of studying) :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here we go :) a chapter that shows a little more of Zachary's persepctive and a bit of insight on how he ended up cheating, what his mindset was etc  
> enjoy

**_ Then _ **

 

**_ 25th March 2015 _ **

 

It was week nine of spring split. The last week. The last games. It was the last chance for them to prove themselves, the last chance for C9 to show everybody that despite the shaky split, they still had it in them, that they did deserve a playoffs spot, still were an NA top team.

 

And Zachary was scared.

 

Not an acute kind of scared. Not the kind where your heart is beating faster and the hairs on your arms are standing up and you can pinpoint exactly what is making you feel this way. It was more of an uncertainty, a sinking feeling in his stomach and some sort of pressure weighing him down, making it hard to relax and just leave the game behind for a couple of hours.

 

Or maybe scared wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was more something along the lines of nervous. Zachary wasn’t sure how to describe it, how to put it into words. He just knew that he was feeling off, and that there was no way for him to deal with it.

 

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking, thinking about his performance in the last scrims, about the last discussion with Charlie, about the latest reddit threads, everything. And yet, he it seemed impossible to tell the others that he was feeling like this, unsure and not at all confident in his ability to carry them. They relied on him. Counted on Sneaky performing on a level that allowed them all to play _their_ game and not just have them stumbling across the map like a bunch of newbies.

 

Of course, it probably wasn’t _actually_ that bad, but sometimes it sure felt like it, especially if you devoted a certain amount of time reading people’s comments on you and your team on the almighty internet.

 

Zachary hated that he couldn’t shut it all out, couldn’t just concentrate on himself and the game he was playing. Maybe if he could, he’d be able to not let the pressure get to him, maybe then he’d be able to just enjoy the evening with Will. Instead, he would lie on his bed, scrolling through his phone with just a few meters away, still playing solo-queue on Zachary’s computer.

 

Will wasn’t happy with his recent performance, Zachary knew that, even though Will only ever let it on through sarcastic comments and jokes. In a way Zachary was thankful for that, Will not outright saying it. Because the truth was, some of the things Will put himself down for were true. And since Zachary wasn’t the best at talking serious as it was, he feared that if he attempted to cheer Will up with anything other than sex he’d just mess up anyway.

 

So he didn’t even try, didn’t tell Will to just call it a day, to just take a break or not beat himself up too much. He didn’t tell Will that he’d much rather spent the evening watching some anime together and making out or playing xbox. He didn’t tell Will that he understood how tense he was feeling, that he didn’t blame him and that they surely would be alright. Zachary couldn’t promise that. They were starting into week 8with a 10 to 6 score. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t good either, especially considering how they finished Spring 2014 24 to 4. Now over half their games ended in losses. Of course, you couldn’t pin their decline onto one player only, they all knew that, but Zachary still wasn’t in a position to tell Will that none of their short comings this split were his fault.

 

He wished that he could though, he wished he could make things better. Zachary wished that he would find a way to let Will know that he was missing him, missing just being close to him, just laughing together and not caring about the game for a few hours. He wished that he could tell Will that he was feeling lonely and as if Will was too caught up in his own misery to see that Zachary was affected by this situation too.

 

Zachary needed Will to deal with this pressure that he was feeling alone, but he didn’t know how to ask for help and Will wasn’t offering. He wasn’t even seeing how lost Zachary felt.

 

And the worst thing was that it made Zachary feel so vulnerable, like it was all getting too much, and needing Will only made that feeling worse.

 

Furthermore, most of the time, when one thing went wrong, other things tended to follow, Zachary had learned. Like dominos. It was never just one thing. Never just one off game or one off day. Things tended to accumulate. And when it had started with Will snapping at Zachary after scrims for not needing to tell him that that gank sucked thank you very much, it had soon turned into Zachary not even opening his mouth when he felt shit about a game because he still had played moderately good, right? Still, okay? No reason to feel shit.

 

Could always be worse. Could always be the one Charlie was telling off.

 

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t feeling the pressure though, that he wasn’t scared or nervous or self-conscious or whatever.

 

He just didn’t know how to talk about it. And tonight was bad.

 

Zachary cleared his throat, glancing on Will’s screen from his position on the bed. “Will…”

 

Will didn’t turn around, even though Zachary could see the black and white of his screen. “I’m ingame, Zach,” Will said and Zachary just rolled his eyes.

 

“Yeah, no shit.” He grumbled, rolling onto his stomach. Lying on his side sucked with glasses on.

 

“Stop sounding pissed,” Will said dryly. “I could go to my room. Practice there. You offered.”

 

Zachary glanced at the back of Will’s head, pressing his lips tightly together. Sure, yeah he had told Will he could practice in his room. That way, they could at least be in each other’s company. But he had counted on Will playing two, maybe three games. Not five. He wanted Will to come over here, to come and kiss him, and make him forget about league for five damn minutes. Just them, being with each other. He wanted to see Will genuinely smile at him for once and throw his head back in laughter again like he used to. And all that other stupid romantic shit that Zachary barely dared to think, let alone say out loud, in fear of seeming to clingy and needy.

 

He had his pride for god’s sake and if Will wanted to be a dick who only cared about the game, fine. It was their job after all. Their life. Zachary had no right to interfere with that, especially if he should probably maybe be practicing right now too. Maybe that would help with his nervousness, but sometimes he just needed a break. And Will used to help with that. He used to help Zachary with taking a step back from reality and all the stress.

 

Not now though.

 

Zachary sighed and unlocked his phone again. Scrolling through his twitter newsfeed didn’t do much to keep him busy. He liked a couple of tweets, retweeted a few then proceeded to switch over to facebook. His little sister had posted a selfie of her and her best friend, throwing piece signs and making duck faces in a way only 14 year old girls could. He opened snapchat to send her a picture of him parodying the pic, but with a smiley emoji, so she would know that he didn’t mean it in a mean way. Scrolling through her page, he eventually switched to his mom’s. No real reason, just to check in general. There wasn’t much. True to the cliché there were a couple of cooking recipes and something about her being proud of Emma for doing good in some school thing.

 

Zachary closed the app, glancing at Will again who was still apparently very busy trying to win a lost game. He contemplated throwing a pillow at him, but given his inability to properly throw shit and the fact that this was the 21th century, age of technology and stuff, he opted for sending a text.

 

[To]: Meteos

_U r a dick_

 

Every time Zachary texted Will he told himself he needed to change that name. It felt weird having his boyfriend saved under his player tag in his phone, but for some reason he had never gotten around to changing it. When they had just met, just had started playing for the same team, getting to know each other, Zachary had put him in his contacts under his player tag just like he had done with everybody else. It had felt appropriate at the time.

 

Back then, he had had no idea how important Will would be to him one day. That they would be more than teammates, more than friends or best friends. That they would be _this_.

 

It hadn’t even occurred to him, but somehow without Zachary really noticing it had happened and then it had been too late and here he was lying on his bed, craving attention from this boy like some teenage girl crushing hard. It was ridiculous and embarrassing and maybe that was part of the reason, why he always put off changing the name in his phone. Keeping it Meteos felt like Zachary was more in control, like he could still decide this just being Meteos. Not Will. Not his boyfriend, not the guy who could make him feel like this.

 

The guy he liked liked. Or whatever.

 

Zachary could hear Will’s phone vibrate loudly where it was lying next to the keyboard and after a few seconds Will even seemed to look at it, his profile illuminated by the light of his computer screen.

 

Zachary was ready to stick his tongue out, wiggle his eyebrows or do something equally stupid in response to whatever Will would say but Will didn’t react. He just turned back to his desktop and Zachary sighed again. This time mildly annoyed and disappointed. And a little hurt.

 

He typed out another text, but pressed delete before he could send it.

 

[To]: Meteos

_pay attention to me_

 

Too needy, too childish. Stupid. No.

 

 

[To]: Meteos

_I want you to kiss me_

_And fuck me_

 

 

Delete.

 

Too girly. Too embarrassing. No.

 

[To]: Meteos

_Im scared I will suck and everyone will hate me including you_

 

Delete.

 

 

No.

 

[To]: Meteos

_stop fkcing playin Will cmon_

 

Delete.

 

[To]: Meteos

_Last week I almost told you I love you but then we lost against t8 and i_

 

Delete.

 

[To]: Meteos

_I don’t_

_I don’t_

_I do_

 

Delete.

 

[To]: Meteos

_Fuck this. Stop playin. Stop._

 

Delete.

 

 

Zachary wanted to throw his phone against the wall. Or against Will’s head. Maybe the computer screen. He couldn’t say any of those things. Not even via text.

 

Instead of starting another attempt to get Will to pay attention to him, Zachary ended up scrolling through some other text conversations. He sent An a quick ‘lol’ in response to a meme the other boy had sent him yesterday, which he apparently had forgotten to answer to, reread some of the C9 last group chat conversation.

 

Somehow he ended up opening up the conversation thread with Jena. Her number was no longer saved in his phone, but the texts were still there. The older, some newer. Zachary glanced at Will. Still busy.

 

The last text from her had come four weeks ago. Something flirty. Kinda sexual. Winky smiley, kiss emoji, the whole thing.

 

Zachary had never replied.

 

The sound of Will groaning and the keyboard clattering made Zachary look up. Will had pushed himself away from the desk, arms thrown over his face.

 

“I’m guessing that went well.” Zachary said, giving Will a smile.

 

“Yeah.” Will exhaled visibly, before turning around to shut off the computer. “Nothing like solo-queue to fuck you in the ass, right?”

 

He stood up, stretching until his back popped. Zachary watched him. As usually, the movement made Will’s shirt ride up a bit, exposing the skin just above the waistband of his jeans. Zachary could see the thin trail of hair going down from his navel. It was just for a moment, just a glance, but Zachary couldn’t help but sneak a hand between himself and the mattress, pressing against his crotch.

 

He cleared his throat. “…you wanna fuck?”

 

“Mhhh” Will tilted his head, like he was seriously weighing his options. This time Zachary was really going to throw a pillow at him, but then Will shrugged and he pulled his shirt off “Yeah sure.”

 

“Well, then get over here, good sir.” Zachary said, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. “We don’t have all night.”

 

“No?” Will quirked an eyebrow as he stepped out of his jeans unceremoniously. “Got somewhere to be?”

 

Zachary bit his lip, letting his eyes wander over Will’s body. He didn’t get why he was so insanely attracted to Will, couldn’t rationally explain it, but here he was and the sight of the other boy taking his clothes off for him, made Zachary feel hot all over. In a good way.

 

“Oh yeah.” Zachary smirked, unzipping his sweater-jacket. After showering he hadn’t bothered with putting on a shirt, just shrugged on his sweater-jacket with nothing underneath. “Got a really hot date with that blonde egrill from the last fan meet? Remember her? Big tits and a-“

 

Will didn’t let him continue. He made a sound that could have been anywhere between a laugh and a growl, then he was above Zachary, pinning him down with his hands on Zachary’s shoulders. Zachary flushed deep red. It wasn’t like any of what he had just said was true. It had just been taunting, just him being funny and maybe a bit pissy at Will for ignoring him so much lately and Will knew that. Of course he knew that, but still, this feeling of being pinned down by Will, just pushed down and overpowered, it was equally as arousing as embarrassing.

 

Zachary stared up at Will, who was now straddling his thighs. So close, but Zachary was still wearing his pants and he didn’t even want to imagine how it must feel for Will, naked skin against Zachary’s sweatpants. It made Zachary’s cock throb, so Zachary reached down, adjusting himself, without breaking eye-contact with Will.

 

Will couldn’t see that Zachary was touching himself, but he sure as hell must have felt it. Since he wasn’t giving Zachary much room to work with, Zachary’s wrist had brushed against Will’s bare thigh on the way down, against the underside of his balls and yes, yes it might not be a moan but Will let out a shaky breath and well, Zachary counted that as a good start. He grinned. At least now Will was paying attention to him. Only to him.

 

Will bent down then, his lips brushing against Zachary’s lips, but only for the fraction of a second, not nearly enough. Zachary wanted to lean in, wanted to kiss back, but Will pulled away before he could, instead pressing kisses to Zachary’s jaw, his neck, tongue licking against Zachary’s skin, with just the slightest hint of teeth.

 

“Don’t-“ Zachary gasped, grinding his hips up against Will at the same time.

 

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” Will mumbled against Zachary’s neck, his warm breath making Zachary shudder.

 

It almost made Zachary smile, the fact that he didn’t even had to say it, didn’t have to spell it out. Will knew that Zachary didn’t like hickeys, or at least not in places where they were likely to be seen, which was basically everywhere. The annoying truth about gaming houses was that somehow someway you always ended up seeing far more of your teammates than you were ever planning to, since privacy wasn’t really a thing.

 

Will shifted a little, adjusting their position so Zachary could properly grind against his thigh and damn, that was good, Zachary could barely keep himself from moaning. Judging from the look on Will’s face when he stopped kissing Zachary’s collarbones for a second, Will knew that.

 

By the way Will moved, Zachary could tell he was going to kiss his neck again and while Zachary loved that, _really_ loved that he wanted something else right now. He tangled his hands in Will’s messy blonde hair, to pull him up again, twisting his fingers just the right amount to have Will hiss at the sensation, before he tilted his head upwards to capture Will’s lips in a kiss. He kissed him slow, dragging it out just the way he knew Will liked, licking along Will’s lower lip until the other boy granted him access, allowing Zachary to slide his tongue against his, deepening the kiss, while Will’s hands roamed over Zachary’s naked chest.

 

“Zach,” Will panted, as they separated for air, resting his forehead against Zachary’s, while his fingers pinched one of Zachary’s nipples, drawing a whine from Zachary that was thankfully low enough so only Will would hear. “Can I-“

 

Zachary nodded. He didn’t need Will to finish the sentence. Will wanted to put his mouth on Zachary, on his nipples and well, it wasn’t like Zachary didn’t like that, he more than liked it, maybe, but it was easier like this. Will wanting it, not Zachary. And if the sensation of having Will suck on his nipples, biting the erect nubs, using his tongue on him, his teeth, made him arch his back a little more, made him get impossibly harder in his pants, than that didn’t mean anything. He was just responding to Will liking it, just to Will grinding his thigh against Zachary’s crotch.

 

Nothing more. But it was so good. Zachary pulled at Will’s hair again, not to get him to stop but as encouragement. Will liked it. Not too hard, but just hard enough. They knew each other. They didn’t need words. Not for this. This worked. _This_ was good.

 

“Take off your pants.” Will said as he flicked his tongue against Zachary’s nipple once more, before pulling off, glancing up at Zachary through his eyelashes.

 

“You need to get off for that, dude.” Zachary said, attempting to make it sound funny and sure enough Will smiled, rolling off of Zachary almost immediately.

 

He felt weird for a second, without the weight of Will on top of him, but then Zachary remembered his task, quickly pushing his pants down. Will moved then, helping Zachary pull off his pants completely, leaving them both completely naked.

 

“So pretty.” Will mumbled, pressing a kiss to Zachary’s knee.

 

Zachary flushed, nudging Will’s side with his foot instantly, which could maybe be considered the soft core version of a kick. Will just shook his head.

 

“I know, I know.” He mumbled.

 

Zachary pressed his lips into a tight line. He didn’t need Will to get sappy like that, to say this stupid shit. Calling Zachary pretty and stuff. It was embarrassing and unnecessary. It wasn’t like Zachary didn’t know how smooth the hair on his legs was compared to Will’s. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how soft he was in general. Not lean or muscly or whatever. There was no need for Will to point it out. It felt like mockery and Will should be aware of that that.

 

They were both quiet for a moment.

 

“I thought I told you we didn’t have all night.” Zachary said eventually, to break the silence. After a pause, hesitating briefly, he quickly added, “Daddy.”

 

Will threw him a look. Zachary quirked an eyebrow. Silence again.

 

Despite having countless jokes and shit about this kinda stuff, calling each other daddy and what not for shits and giggles, Zachary had learned that Will didn’t actually like using ‘daddy’ in bed. It wasn’t like Zachary minded. It wasn’t really a kink of himself, but it was fun to joke about it. And if Will could call Zachary stupid shit like pretty than fine, Zachary could call him that. It was just fair.

 

“Fuck you.” Will said with no real venom. He kept his hands on Zachary’s legs, running them up his calves, then to his thighs, caressing the sensitive skin there, while still looking at Zachary.

 

“That’s the idea.” Zachary replied and Will chuckled, shaking his head.

 

A part of Zachary wanted to ask what Will was thinking, but the part telling him to just kiss him was louder, so he did, pulling Will up by his hair, connecting their mouth in sudden fervor that had the other boy moaning into his mouth as Zachary wrapped his legs around Will’s waist.

 

The indescribable feeling of having their cocks rub together like this was distracting enough, so Zachary could ignore how undignified this position was for him, on his back with his legs spread. Concentrating on Will’s tongue in his mouth was far better, and so was cupping Will’s arse with his free hand, and having Will smile into the kiss.

 

“Give me a sec,” Will mumbled after pulling back from the kiss, having Zachary chase after his lips, not ready to break it yet.

 

Will reached for their bedside table, grabbing the bottle of lube they had stored there.

 

“Lean back.” Will whispered, kissing Zachary again before shuffling down so he was positioned between Zachary’s legs. Zachary used the opportunity to run a hand through his messed up fringe, while watching Will give his cock a couple of strokes that sent waves of pleasure through Zachary’s body. The way Will used his thumb on the head, how he flicked his wrist and the rhythm, it was exactly right. Just how Zachary needed it to throw his head back and moan, his eyes closed, and his lips raw from biting them.

 

He could hear the sound of Will pouring lube onto his hand and rationally of course he knew what that meant, wanted it even, but somehow the sudden cold sensation of Will’s finger between his cheeks, rubbing over his rim, made him tense, his breath hitching.

 

“I-“ Zachary shook his head. “What are you-“

 

Will pulled back, looking at Zachary silently for a couple of moments that made Zachary squirm. “I kinda figured you weren’t into taking it dry so-“

 

“I’m not.” Zachary cleared his throat. “Anyway I- you know I kinda thought I was going to …fuck _you_ so…”

 

Zachary didn’t look at Will then, focusing at the bed, the ceiling, just not at him. He got why Will thought they might do it differently tonight, with the way Zachary said things, the way they made out and everything. He got it. And a part of him did want exactly what Will was offering, but no. No he couldn’t. Not tonight. Not after Will had been so distant the whole day and Zachary was feeling a little pathetic as it was, being so needy and everything.

 

“Ah.” Was all Will said for a few long moments. Then he cleared his throat. “C’mon then.”

 

Zachary felt the bottle of lube nudged into his hand and when he looked at Will, he just seemed a bit impatient. Like anybody probably would who had been hard for some time but hadn’t received any attention in that department yet.

 

“On your front.” Zachary said and Will complied, positioning himself so Zachary could kneel comfortably behind him. Zachary lubed himself up, taking the time to squeeze his hard on a couple of times, playing with the tip, before lining himself up with Will’s hole.

 

They both knew Will didn’t need any extra preparation. If you fucked about three times a week, sometimes more, fingering as a preparation got mostly unnecessary, as it turned out. It was easy just pushing into Will, feeling that tight heat around his cock, hearing Will moan at the intrusion. Will’s body was just ready for Zachary, for his cock and it felt incredible, being able to just slip it in, like he belonged there.

 

He needed to take a moment to just draw in a breath and release it again. Will felt so good and they weren’t even moving yet. Well Zachary wasn’t. Will had a hand wrapped around his own cock, jerking himself, while waiting for Zachary to move, his breath going quick and ragged. A sound that went straight to Zachary’s cock, where it was buried deep inside Will.

 

Being inside Will must be one of the best feelings in the world, Zachary figured. He pushed in slowly until he was all the way in, his hips flush against Will’s arse.

 

“Will,” Zachary leaned forward so he could put his hand over Will’s so they were stroking Will’s cock together. Hearing Will’s breath hitch at the sensation and feeling his rhythm falter for a second before he got what Zachary was doing, his cock twitching in excitement, it all made Zachary feel more than just good. He felt wanted.

 

The fact that he could have such an effect on somebody still felt kinda surreal at times. And it never even seemed to bother Will, getting off on this, on Zachary’s cock inside his arse, on Zachary coming on his face, all those things.

 

Maybe Zachary envied him a little.

 

Maybe.

 

“Are you gonna move sometime today or do you need a break, Sneakers?” Will panted, causing Zachary to smile at the nickname.

 

“You that eager?” he asked as he pulled almost all the way out until only the tip was inside Will.

 

“Yeah.” Will whined. “Always. You know that.”

 

Zachary thrust back in, having to use both hands to stabilize Will’s hips. “Do I?”

 

“Fuck,” Will moaned and Zachary pulled out again only to slam back in, drawing another delicious noise from Will.

 

Apart from the feeling of having his cock inside him, Will’s reactions were probably the best thing about having sex with him, no matter how or when they did it, Will was always so into it, responding so perfectly to Zachary, it made Zachary feel like it could not possibly get any better every time they did it.

 

Sometimes he wondered if it had ever been this good with Jena. If she had ever liked it so much with him. If _he_ had ever.

 

And what the answer would mean.

 

He still remembered one of the last times he had had sex with Jena before it had ended, and how he had had to think about Will to be able to come, had to close his eyes and imagine it being him, not her. He still remembered being angry at Will for it. Like it had been his fault that Zachary couldn’t get off with his girlfriend like any other normal guy could.

 

Zachary remembered hating it.

 

“You know” Will got out, panting between Zachary’s thrusts, his head resting on his forearms,” for someone who’s catch phrase is about a welcoming butthole, you sure as hell don’t do that often.”

 

He might have said more, but Zachary cut him off with a particularly sharp thrust, nudging Will’s prostate at just the right angle, drawing a moan from Will that could probably be heard through the wall, but who cared anyway.

 

“I do.” Zachary found himself arguing, his voice so low he wasn’t even sure Will could hear it over his own panting. Zachary barely could, his heart was beating so loud.

 

He did, he let Will fuck him. Every now and then. At least once or twice last month.

 

“Yeah right.” Will didn’t sound convinced but Zachary didn’t want to get into that right now. Why did Will have to be this irritating tonight? It made Zachary feel tense. Everything was stressful enough and now Will was acting like this, it was just-

 

“Zach,” Will cut him off, tapping Zachary’s hip, signaling him to pull out. “I’m gonna ride you, yeah?”

 

Zachary nodded, letting Will push him onto his back, then straddle his hips and slowly letting himself sink down on Zachary’s cock. And that, that was a sight that would never fail to do something to Zachary, making him feel hot everywhere, every cell in his body filled with arousal. There was no space left for any other feeling, at least not in that glorious moment.

 

Will had one hand planted on Zachary’s chest for balance, the other in his hair, eyes closed as if in bliss, his cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted.

 

“It’s not that you don’t like it-“ Will continued his previous line of thought, slowly lifting himself off a tiny bit only to sink back down, ever so slowly, making Zachary feel every inch of him clenching tight around his cock. It was a mystery to Zachary how Will was still able to form coherent sentences “I know you love it. I know you do- when you let me-“

 

His voice was raspy and uneven, but the roughness of it went straight to Zachary’s cock, getting under his skin and despite the words, despite their meaning, Zachary found himself wishing for Will to not stop talking. He didn’t want to hear it, what he was saying but how, the tone, the hitch in his breath, the hoarseness of his voice, that was doing it for Zachary more than he’d ever be willing to admit.

 

“I just-“ Zachary was cut off by Will rolling his hips, drawing a moan out of him that made his mind go blank for a few blissful seconds. “I just don’t like being the girl.”

 

Will’s fingertips were pressing into Zachary’s chest as he was angling himself, and it felt like they would leave burn marks there, Zachary felt so hot, so good and at the same time a tiny bit ashamed. The heat building up in his groin was getting unbearable. Zachary reached up, letting his hands wander from where they had been resting on Will’s hips up to his chest, spreading his fingers across the skin, feeling the way his ribs deflated and expanded with each ragged intake of breath.

 

Then Will laughed.

 

“Dude, does your ass ever get jealous of the shit that comes out of your mouth?” he leaned down to press a kiss onto Zachary’s lips, his eyes closed and his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

 

Zachary wanted to laugh too, but something stopped him. He knew this was ridiculous to Will and for the most part Zachary recognized the hypocrisy and stupidity of the whole issue too, but having Will make fun of him like this still wasn’t very _fun._ He felt a tiny bit humiliated, even though it was Will who currently was getting fucked.

 

“Does this make me a girl?” Will asked, panting as he took Zachary’s hand, leading it down between their bodies to his erection, trapped between their stomachs.

 

He whimpered unashamedly as Zachary’s fingers brushed against it.

 

“Does your dick in my arse make me girl?” he lead Zachary’s hand further down, between his legs, near the area where they were connected, Will’s body stretched and open for Zachary.

 

The answer was no. Of course none of this made Will a girl and Zachary knew that. But Will getting fucked was different from Zachary getting fucked. To Zachary it was different. And he couldn’t really explain why. Maybe it was because Will wasn’t very girly to begin with. He wasn’t shorter than most teenage girls, he didn’t have those small chubby hands and this soft undefined body, no jawline to speak of and was never called a twelve year old lesbian on the internet either.

 

It was easy for Will to talk like this. Looking like he did. Even bleaching his hair without anyone ever questioning his masculinity.

 

When Will finally got the angle right, Zachary could immediately tell. The sound Will made, when he sunk down, Zachary’s cock apparently hitting just the right spot, was hint enough, so Zachary pushed all thoughts aside and concentrated on rocking his hips up, hitting that spot again and again, meeting Will halfway.

 

Will could move his hips so well, it was basically unfair. The first time Zachary had been inside Will the whole thing had been over embarrassingly quickly. He could feel himself getting close now, had been close for seemingly forever now. Or at least that was how it felt like as he found himself gazing up at Will through his eyelashes, only to find Will already looking at him with lust blown eyes.

 

“I- I’m gonna…” Zachary whimpered, digging his fingernails into Will’s hips. “gonna come.”

 

Will nodded and as if he’d just been waiting for Zachary to say that he clenched around Zachary, suddenly impossibly tight and it felt so good, Zachary could barely breathe.

 

“Inside.” Will panted, “Come inside.”

 

So Zachary did. Of course it was quite unnecessary for Will to say that, because there was rarely a time when Will didn’t want Zachary to come inside of him. He liked the way it felt, he had explained once, liked the idea of it and Zachary would lie if he said he didn’t feel the same.

 

It took another heartbeat, maybe two, until Will came as well, with the help of Zachary wrapping his hand around his hard and leaking cock. The touch alone was enough to push Will over the edge. He shuddered as he collapsed on top of Zachary, seemingly exhausted.

 

Zachary pulled out carefully after a few moments, feeling Will squirm at the sensation before settling his head on top of Zachary’s chest, just above his heart, his hair tickling just the slightest bit. They lay like that for a while, sticky and overheated and strengthless and Zachary’s head was just empty. For a few perfect moments league didn’t exist, the stress, the pressure, none of it. He traced his fingers over Will’s naked back, running them over the knobs of his spine, feeling him shiver and sigh at it.

 

“I like like you.” Will mumbled, pressing a kiss to Zachary’s chest, before pushing himself up into a sitting position.

 

Zachary just looked at him. He opened his mouth and almost, almost the words tumbled out. He could taste them on his tongue, could feel them in his mouth.

 

He almost said it back. Not this like-like joke version. The real thing. The real deal. He almost said it. And fuck, that scared Zachary more than the game, more than the fear of failure, more than anything.

 

But he didn’t say it.

 

Will mumbled something about wanting to sneak in the bathroom real quick and Zachary just nodded, keeping his lips pressed together tightly in case the words would try to stumble out after all. He didn’t want them to. He didn’t want to say them, didn’t want to think them or feel them.

 

He quickly pulled on his pyjamas, crawling under the blanket on his side of the bed. He didn’t get what was wrong with him. Why had he never gotten the urge to say those words to Jena? Or his high school girlfriend? Why did it have to be like this? With Will? With a guy?

 

He slowly reached for his phone, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb. The text conversation with Jena was still open. Zachary stared at it.

 

He swallowed, glancing at the closed door, running one hand through his messed up hair, trying to fix his fringe.

 

[To]: unkown

_Hi_

The text sent and Zachary just stared at his phone, unable to comprehend why he had just done that. Then the door opened and Will slipped back into the room.

 

The phone vibrated 30 minutes later, when Zachary had already half successfully managed to push the thought of it away, had closed his eyes, one arm wrapped around Will, who was already fast asleep.

 

Zachary hesitated before reaching for his phone, the screen way to bright for his eyes in the darkness of the room. Jena had answered. It was just one word. One single word.

 

[From]: unknown

_Hey ;)_

 

 

***

 

 

**_ Now _ **

 

**_ 11th April 2015 _ **

 

It’s game day and everyone is on edge. It varies from positively buzzing with energy to quiet nervousness. In a way, Zachary is thankful for this, for the distraction, the excuse of having to concentrate on the game. On game days, even less than on ‘normal’ days, there is no space for anything else, there is no room for something that isn’t league. No personal shit, nothing. Just the game.

 

Will and him haven’t talked since the night that Will has left Zachary’s bed and Zachary hasn’t known how to initiate anything since. He had decided that it was probably for the best to give the other boy as much distance as possible. And while that has resulted in many awkward silences, sleepless nights and a constant ache in Zachary’s chest, it has worked. Well, kinda. It hasn’t gotten worse. Zachary hasn’t seen Will cry again and nobody had called Zachary a horrible, disgusting human being yet. That has to count for something.

 

Right before they have to leave for the studio for their match against Team Liquid, Hai gathers them in the living room. Zachary is sitting on one end of the couch and while the spot next to him is usually reserved for Will, it is now Daerek sitting there. Will has chosen to lean against the wall, arms crossed and as physically far away from Zachary as possible.

 

Great.

 

Zachary swallows and tries to focus on Hai. He wonders if it is already time for the pep talk cheer up thing, even though Hai normally prefers to do that right before going on stage.

 

“Okay guys,” Hai begins, “Technically you already know this, but I thought I’d tell you this officially. I’ve been meaning to do this earlier, but-“ he pauses, scratching his head, his eyes flickering to Will, then to Zachary, “Well, stuff came up. Anyway, “ Zachary flushes a little and Hai clears his throat. It’s still a weird feeling. The fact that Hai knows. “Well…I have decided to retire. After this split.”

 

“For real?” Will asks, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie.

 

Hai nods. “Yeah, for real. I won’t be an active player anymore come summer split. I will however stay part of the organization.”

 

“Who will replace you?” An throws in and yes, that is a good question. Zachary still has to wrap his head around this, around Hai leaving. Of course he had known this day would come, Hai has hinted towards it a couple of times. It  really shouldn’t be a surprise, but for some reason it still is. Hai is not only part of the team, of C9. Hai _is_ C9. They all are. This is their team, their family. The team with the longest period of time without roster changes. And now Hai is going to leave. He is going to be gone and the uncertainty this leaves them with feels like a looming shadow.

 

Hai gives them a reassuring smile “Don’t worry. Me, Jack and Charlie are already looking at possible Mids. Once, we’ve made a first selection we will discuss the options with you guys.”

 

There is some sort of discussion bubbling up after that, the guys talking about this, Hai answering questions, An voicing concerns, and Daerek backing up Hai as usual. Zachary zones out at one point until Hai suddenly addresses him directly.

 

“You all can go and get ready for the van. I’d like to talk to Zach for a moment.”

 

Zachary looks up, frowning as the other boys clear out, shuffling to their respective rooms.

 

Zachary shifts a little, tugging one leg up under him while Hai sits down on the other end of the couch, looking at him.

 

“What is it?” Zachary finds himself asking even though he knows as well as Hai that there is probably only one thing this could be about.

 

Hai clears his throat, “So how are things? With Meteos.”

 

“Just great.” Zachary scoffs, “But you already know that, don’t you?”

 

Hai doesn’t react to the harshness of Zachary’s words, just looks at him calmly. “I told you this a year ago, when you two decided to start…this.” Hai pauses and Zachary knows what’s coming next. He looks down on his hands. “I told you dating within the team is a bad call.”

 

Zachary remembers it. He remembers all of it, every awkward conversation, every look, every newly established rule, every flash of shameful anger he had felt at all those people getting more and more involved in something that was never meant for them, for anyone to know. He remembers Hai telling him that this was a bad idea, that he shouldn’t have started a relationship with a teammate, because it would fuck things up and Zachary hadn’t had the courage to tell him that he had never meant for this to _be_ a relationship, he had never meant for this thing with Will to turn into more than just the occasional fuck.

 

He wonders what Hai would have said if Zachary had told him that back then. He wonders if they would have ended up here too. With everything screwed up and Zachary constantly feeling like he’s walking on cracked glass that’s about to break.

 

Sometimes he feels like it’s already broken.

 

“It’s not fair of you. Saying that.” Zachary says, without looking at Hai, “It’s been…good. For months, we’ve been good. It wasn’t a bad call…”

 

Hai doesn’t comment on how unconvinced Zachary sounds, instead he just sighs.

 

“Well, now it’s not good anymore though, right?” Hai points out. “You made sure of that.”

 

It’s the first time Hai openly acknowledged the fact that he knows what Zachary did and that _he_ was the one fucking it up, screwing the whole team over with his actions. Zachary had known this would come and still, it feels like a punch to the gut.

 

“Suck a dick, Hai.” He snaps, “It’s- We…we fought before, this is just- We are going to-“ he helplessly looks into the direction of Will’s room, “It’s not over. It’s not, okay? We are still…we are trying.”

 

Hai is silent for a long while, long enough for Zachary to stop his lips from trembling, his fingers unclenching from the fists he made.

 

“Look,” Hai says, “You guys are my friends. And I want you to be happy. And sometimes relationships just don’t work out. That’s how it is. No shame in calling it quits if it doesn’t work. But I’m also your team captain and I- I have to ask you not to try. I don’t want you to _just_ try, Zach. I need you to _make_ it work, you understand?” he looks at Zachary intently. “I am going to leave and we want Will to take over shotcalling. He’s capable of it. He’s good at it. I know he can do it. But with all this shit going on he can’t. And _we_ can’t have that. You get that, right?”

 

Zachary fumbles with his fringe, feeling a lump forming in his throat. This whole conversation feels so invasive somehow and yet strangely impersonal. Zachary doesn’t really know how he is supposed to react to this, what the reply is Hai expects.

 

“What do you want me to do?” Zachary asks, sounding something between defiant and helpless. “Will said you told him we aren’t allowed to talk. So- We can’t do that and- and he won’t even sleep in the same bed as me so- what should I- how am I-“

 

“Jack says the van is ready.”

 

Of all people that could interrupt them, it’s Will of course. Clearing his throat, where he’s standing in the doorframe, looking at Hai, but not at Zachary.

 

Before either of them can say anything he’s gone again and while Hai puts on a thoughtful expression Zachary is just stuck wondering how much Will has heard. If he heard the desperation in Zachary’s voice and if he still doesn’t hate Zachary as he had said that night.

 

“You just have to make it work, Zach.” Hai says, spectacularly unhelpful. “I’d hate to be right, you know? This one time, I’d very much like to be wrong.”

 

“What do you mean?” Zachary asks, adjusting his glasses just to have something to do with his hands.

 

“When you two got together I’ve been… skeptical. I thought this thing would mess up the whole team, that it would change our dynamic and make things difficult. But… it didn’t. Nothing changed. Just that you two went to sleep in the same room, and sometimes you held hands, or sat a little closer together. Or kissed. But that was it. It was okay.” Hai explains, “Like you said, it was good. And I thought maybe I was wrong. But in the back of my mind, I think I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He pauses again. “Is this the metaphorical other shoe dropping?”

 

“This is me not so metaphorical trying to get Will to forgive me for fucking my ex-girlfriend.” Zachary says drily. He doesn’t know why he says it, why he just blurts it out like this when Will doesn’t even know that it’s been Jena he slept with, but somehow it‘s out and Hai just stares at him. It almost makes Zachary laugh. “Kudos to you by the way. For being such a good friend. Telling Will to not talk and shit. That’s just great. Really helps to make _this_ work.”

 

Hai looks away, his jaw set into a tight line.

 

“Get your stuff. We need to get going.”

 

***

 

The first two games go bad. Not catastrophically bad, but still bad enough for the atmosphere to be noticeably despondent, despite Charlie trying to cheer them up with some motivational speech thingie. Zachary isn’t really listening. His eyes keep flickering towards Will, who doesn’t seem to be very attentive either. In fact he looks far away, his face a blank mask that Zachary has no idea how to read.

 

“I need to piss.” Will says suddenly and before anyone can say anything he has already turned around, walking away from them. Charlie halts mid-sentence, looking at Hai, then at Zachary.

 

Hai gives Zachary a look and the tiniest nod in the direction Will left in.

 

Zachary swallows, unsure for a moment, but then again, he doesn’t really want Hai or Jack going after Will. And Hai told him to make it work, to try to fix this and maybe this is part of it. Will is upset, hasn’t stopped being upset ever since Zachary confessed and who can blame him? But this is the wrong time, the wrong moment, they can’t have personal struggle right now, not when they are already struggling in game.

 

So Zachary nods quickly, hurrying after Will as fast as he can. He doesn’t run, irrationally worried that someone somehow might find that suspicious or weird or whatever. So it takes him a bit longer to reach the restroom, with his legs shorter and Will having a head start anyway.

 

When the door falls shut behind Zachary, Will doesn’t even look up. He doesn’t have to, with Zachary‘s reflection in the mirror.

 

“Hey.” Zachary says as he hesitantly walks towards Will. He’s glad that this restroom is just as empty as usual. Most people tend to use the one that is closer to the stage and that’s good. Someone interrupting them now would be beyond awkward. Not that there is much to interrupt right now, but still. Zachary stops a few steps behind Will, trying to make eye contact through the mirror. Will has finished splashing cold water onto his face, has put his glasses back on and is now just outright ignoring Zachary’s presence.

 

“Will…” Zachary says, running his fingers through his fringe as he waits, or rather hopes for a reaction.

 

“What do you want?” Will asks eventually after another moment of endless silence.

 

“I-“ Zachary begins but he doesn’t have any follow-up. “I don’t know, I just-“ He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t really know what he wants, just that he isn’t okay. And that Will isn’t okay either. And if they play like they played the last two games they will sure as hell lose the next and then it will be over.

 

And it can’t be over. It just can’t.

 

Will turns around, eyes cast downward, rubbing his neck with his hand. “I know, I know.” He says quietly. “This is our last shot. We need to perform now, leave everything else behind, focus on the game and just play, but-“

 

“But it’s hard.” Zachary takes a step closer and tries to ignore the sinking feeling he gets at the sad smile on Will’s face.

 

“It’s fucking impossible.” Will says and their eyes meet just as Will takes in a deep breath, “I just- I can barely concentrate. I try, but my mind just- I keep imagining it, you know? I got all those fucking pictures in my head. And questions and-”

 

He visibly swallows and Zachary doesn’t have to ask what Will means with _it._ It’s painfully obvious and yet, or maybe because of that, Will doesn’t say it.

 

“So ask.” Zachary presses his lips together, looking up at Will, “Just ask.”

 

“Zach-“

 

The expression in Will’s eyes is pained and so is his voice and Zachary just can’t stand it anymore. He closes the last bit of distance between them, fingers finding their way to the collar of Will’s jacket. He’s not tugging at it, isn’t pulling Will in or anything. It’s just a bit of contact, just something to ground them in this weird twisted way of theirs.

 

“Just ask, Will.” Zachary repeats. “Hai told m- You know what, fuck Hai. Fuck everyone. It’s just you and me now, okay? Just us. So ask. If that’s what you need. Ask.”

 

It scares him beyond compare, making that offer, giving Will an opening like that. But he has to. He owes him that much and fuck, how is he supposed to make this, any of this work, without at least trying to be honest with Will.

 

“Fine.” Will looks at him. “Where?”

 

Zachary tries to not let the relief show on his face that he feels at Will asking this and not a far more damning question, like _who_.

 

“Here.” He answers truthfully.

 

“The studio?” Will nods. “I figured.”

 

Zachary could leave it at that. It’s enough, but maybe, maybe if he gives Will more than what he is asking for, maybe then he won’t ask other stuff, won’t ask stuff Zachary isn’t as comfortable answering with.

 

“I mean here.” He repeats.

 

Will lets his eyes wander through the restroom, understanding flashing over his face. “This restroom?” he tilts his head. “Classy.”

 

There is nothing for Zachary to do but shrug meekly. Thankfully Will decides not to comment further on Zachary’s choice of location.

 

“How?” Will inquires further instead.

 

Zachary swallows, licking his lips. “How did it happen?”

 

He fumbles with the zipper of Will’s hoodie, looking down, because he is pretty sure he’s blushing. Suddenly there is hand though, Will cupping Zachary’s jaw gently, forcing him to look up, meeting his eyes. “Yes.” Will whispers.

 

This time Zachary doesn’t break eye contact. Instead he finds himself leaning into the touch. The feeling Will’s hand against his skin, his thumb brushing over his cheeks, somehow Zachary feels starved for it, even though it feels darker than usual, a new twist to this electricity between them.

 

“She kissed me.” Zachary answers, “We came in here, and she kissed me.”

 

“Show me.”

 

Zachary blinks, Will’s thumb is brushing over his dry lips, making him shiver and maybe that’s why he misheard. There is no way Will just said that.

 

“What?” Zachary gets out.

 

“Show me.” Will repeats. He’s so close now Zachary can feel his breath on his skin. “Show me how she kissed you.”

 

So Zachary does. He leans in, slowly and hesitantly, and he hears Will’s sharp intake of breath, but Will doesn’t stop him. Will asked for this. So Zachary kisses him. It’s soft and timid and not at all how Jena kissed him here, it’s not at all how hungry her lips had been on his, how she had dominated the kiss, her fingernails sharp in his back and his head almost hitting the wall as she pressed him against it.

 

And he hadn’t kissed her back at first, not like Will, whose lips immediately move with him, even if it’s tender and careful. And he hadn’t closed his eyes, not in the beginning.

 

Will does however, when Zachary pulls away, his eyes are closed, his eyebrows drawn together, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that is missing a piece.

 

“Like this?” he asks, letting out a slow breath that Zachary can feel on his cheeks, because he couldn’t bear to pull away too far.

 

Zachary doesn’t answer, just brushes his lips against Will’s again, because only like this he can ignore the aching in his gut and the feeling that they are playing with fire, when his fingertips are already burnt.

 

“And then?” Will whispers.

 

Zachary swallows “And then she kissed me again.”

 

“And did you kiss her back?”

 

Zachary nods, “I did.”

 

His answer almost gets swallowed by Will’s lips. He kisses him again, this time with more urgency and of course Zachary kisses back, he gently bites Will’s lower lip, takes in the noise Will makes at that, as he opens his mouth, letting Zachary’s tongue in and yeah, this is more like it, more like the kiss with Jena. But at the same time it’s as different as night and day, because this is Will, this is Will’s taste, Will’s movement, Will’s hand on the small of his back and Will’s hot cheek under Zachary’s fingers.

 

When Will asks again, whispers another “Like this?” against Zachary’s lips, Zachary still answers with a nod, breaking the kiss to nuzzle his head under Will’s chin, pressing himself as close as he can against Will’s chest until he can imagine feeling his heartbeat.

 

“What happened then?” Will mumbled and Zachary can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut, pressing his lips together. Will can’t see his face right now and that’s good, because Zachary hates this, he loves touching Will, getting touched by him, but he hates thinking about Jena while doing so.

 

But maybe it’s only fair. Maybe it’s his punishment, because Will said that he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop imagining it. Maybe it’s Zachary’s turn now.

 

“Then I turned to leave.” Zachary says, letting out a shaky breath. He can feel Will pressing his face to his hair, can feel his tickling breath and for a moment he wonders what expression Will is wearing right now.

 

“But you didn’t.” Is all Will mumbles after a moment of silence.

 

“But I didn’t.” Zachary has to agree, his voice barely more than a whisper, “She kissed my neck.”

 

It doesn’t come as a surprise, when Will presses his lips to Zachary’s throat then, but his breath still hitches and he still finds himself tensing for a moment before he melts into the touch, letting out a breathless moan as Will’s teeth graze over his pulse, his tongue leaving a wet trail on Zachary’s skin. It makes him shiver in the best way and even though it technically is the same as what Jena did to him, it feels so different.

 

He let her do it, he touched her back, tangled his fingers in her silky black hair and he had wanted to like it, had wanted, to want more and that had been why he went further, why he had tilted her head back, head pressed another openmouthed kiss to her lips, had pushed her back against the sink counter and-

 

“And she-“ Zachary half whines, half whispers, “She had her hand-“

 

“Where?”

 

“Here.” Zachary answers, leading Will’s hand between their bodies, under his shirt until it’s ghosting over the smooth skin of his stomach, causing Zachary to shiver, “And then here,” he lead Will’s hand down further, to his crotch, pressing it on his half hard cock, trapped inside his jeans.

 

“Did you like that?” Will mumbles, grinding down the heel of his hand slightly, drawing a hiss from Zachary’s lips as he arches back into the touch.

 

“I liked her wanting me.”

 

“Did she do this?” Will asks then, the words just a husky whisper, as he flicks the button of Zachary’s jeans open and pulls down the zipper. Before Zachary can answer, Will’s hand is in his pants, inside his boxer shorts, wrapping around his cock.

 

Zachary nods, biting his lip to stifle a whimper, when Will starts stroking him. The angle is awkward and probably not all too pleasant for Will’s wrist, but it feels good, it feels so good. Zachary can feel his cock filling, getting harder by the second and he just can’t stop himself from fucking up into Will’s hand, while Will nibbles at his earlobe, lips wandering down to his neck again and again.

 

“And then?”

 

Will digs his fingernail to the slit of Zachary’s cock, squeezing at just the right moment so Zachary’s knees almost buckle and he has to claw his fingers into the sleeves of Will’s hoodie to keep his balance.

 

Something about this is so intense, Zachary can feel it vibrating in his veins.

 

“Then I pulled up her skirt.” To emphasize his words Zachary, presses his knee forward, so his thigh is between Will’s legs. If Will moves he can grind down on it and of course does. Judging from the rugged breath escaping his lips, he’s just as turned on as Zachary. “And she kept kissing me.”

 

A surprised yelp escapes Zachary when Will suddenly lifts him up, hands strong around his waist. Zachary clamps his legs around Will’s waist on instinct, too surprised to even think about this, how easy it is for Will to pick him up, how ridiculous this must look. Will lifts him up onto the sink counter, and like this, like this they are almost eyelevel and they are so so close. Zachary forgets to remove his legs from around Will, instead he just stares into the other boy’s eyes, putting his arms around his neck, connecting their mouths for another kiss even though he doesn’t remember how breathing feels like.

 

“Did you do this with her?” Will continues, voice gravelly and hushed at the same time. “Had her legs spread for you, her arms around your neck and she moaned into your ear while you fucked her?”

 

Zachary doesn’t answer, instead he just moans, feeling Will’s hard cock pressed against his, only clothes separating them.

 

“Will,” he gasps as Will’s hand wanders from Zachary’s back to his arse, slipping under the waistband, touching bare skin. Zachary isn’t even sure if Will can do this from this position, finger Zachary or whatever he has in mind, but the thought alone, makes him blush and a certain feeling of uneasiness bubble up in his chest. This situation is weird as fuck as it is, he can’t do this now. He can’t. On top of that, they are running out of time. This is just a break between games. They don’t have time for any of this.

 

“Will,” he gasps, trying to get Will to look at him, “Not enough time.”

 

He doesn’t know if it’s his imagination or if Will really does tense for a split second, before he takes a step back, running his fingers through his hair, not looking at Zachary.

 

“You had enough time to fuck _her.”_

 

Zachary stays silent. He doesn’t argue that this is different that they are _between_ games right now, not after. He’s sure that Will knows that, but the look in his eyes is so conflicted and Zachary doesn’t even understand half of it.

 

So he just pulls Will back in, kisses him , while flicking the button of Will’s jeans open to get his hands on him as quickly as possible. Will doesn’t protest, so Zachary continues. He begins to jerk Will off, not looking at him, but having his forehead leaned against Will’s collarbone, feeling Will’s hand in his hair, the other clenched into Zachary’s shirt sleeve.

 

“Make it quick.” Will pants after a few strokes and Zachary nods, despite the request being very much unnecessary. Of course they have to be quick. It sucks and it’s not how Zachary has imagined getting physical with Will again would be, but they don’t have time. They don’t have a choice. It’s this or nothing.

 

Any other day Zachary would draw this out, tease Will, make a joke, kiss him, tease him more and have Will laugh against his neck, have each of those perfect reactions Will has to Zachary’s touch, but as it is, he makes quick work, uses his hand in the way he knows gets Will off the fastest and sure enough, after he flicks his wrist just right, Will is gone. He comes into Zachary’s fist, an almost inaudible moan falling from his lips.

 

It takes Will a few moments to catch his breath, looking everywhere but Zachary. When he eventually does look at Zachary, who is still sitting on the sink counter, cheeks flushed, hair disheveled and a very noticeable bulge in his jeans, his eyes go directly to his crotch.

 

“Did she come?” Will asks, the roughness of his voice sending a shiver down Zachary’s spine that makes him palm himself, unable to resist. “Did you make her come?”

 

“I…” Zachary reaches for Will’s hand, pulling him closer again until eventually it’s Will’s hand between his legs, not his own. “I don’t know.”

 

He doesn’t know if that’s the answer Will wants to hear or what it will make him do. Will that get him to make Zachary come? Or the opposite, just walking away right now, leaving Zachary take care of it himself. He doesn’t know what to make of the look on Will’s face and somehow it’s no longer just them not being on the same page anymore. It’s like they aren’t even reading the same fucking book anymore.

 

Eventually Will nods. “Okay.” He takes a step back, but not without taking Zachary by the arm, pulling him with him, so now Zachary is standing in front of him.

 

“Okay. C’mon.” He mumbles, getting on his knees, unzipping Zachary’s pants. “We got a game to win.”

 

“Three games.” Zachary blurts out, just as Will pulls down his pants.

 

Will glances up and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but for a moment there’s something like a smile on Will’s face. “Right. Three games.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've planned this chapter since august 2016 and I'm really happy about how it turned out. i hope you guys enjoyed it and please please leave a comment if you did


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. conversations happen.

**_ Now _ **

 

They end up beating TL. It takes an agonizing, nerve wrecking reverse sweep, but they do it. In the end it’s enough, even if each of the three games feels like a damn series in itself. When it’s finally over, won, once and for all, the high of victory like an electrifying energy between them, everything seems alright. Great even. Jack hugs them all and so does Charlie and when they celebrate later and Will gets drunk enough, he even lets Zachary suck him off.

 

It’s good, it’s fantastic. But it’s just one night. And the next morning, the day after and the days after that, things slot back into place. Back to normal, or rather the new normal, this weird tense walking on egg shells and not knowing how to act around each other normal, where distance and uncertainty are so very obvious to Zachary that it hurts. He lies in bed at night, Will next to him and yet so far away and he wonders how to get back to before. Not before he cheated, there is no taking that back now, but the bathroom, Will kissing him, wanting him, despite everything, _that_ might still be in his reach. He’s just not sure how to get there. The back and forth between them makes his head spin. One moment it seems like they are making progress and the next they are back to square one.

 

The day three days before the finals is one of the good days. Will seems in a good mood. He kisses Zachary good morning and smiles at his jokes, twice he even laughs and that’s good, so fucking good. They finish scrims early and Charlie tells them to take the evening off, to clear their heads and have some fun.

 

Zachary asks Will if he wants to watch a movie or something with him. He doesn’t actually care what they do, he just doesn’t want them retreating into their respective rooms alone. And because it’s one of the good days, Will says yes.

 

But before they are really settled in, Hai asks Will to help him with some video game and of course Will agrees to that too, and Zachary tries not to feel whiny over Hai telling him to make it work with Will and then interrupting them at any given opportunity. Maybe not _any_ given opportunity, but still. It kind of pisses Zachary off, but it’s not like he can exactly say that, so he just waits, legs tugged up underneath him and his phone in hand, scrolling through every social media site he can think of.

 

After a couple of minutes alone in the living room, the sound of a phone ringing makes him look up and for a moment Zachary is confused. He stares at his phone, but there is no incoming call. And it’s not vibrating either. It takes him a couple of seconds to realize that it’s not _his_ phone that is ringing, but Will’s, Will’s phone, which he has apparently left lying on the couch table. Zachary peers at it.

 

The phone keeps ringing and Zachary contemplates letting it go straight to voicemail, because he’s just too lazy to move and pick up the phone, but then he remembers Will’s has mildly annoying habit of never ever actually checking his voicemail messages for a reason Zachary has yet to fathom. So Zachary decides to move from his comfortable position in the corner of the couch to reach for Will’s still buzzing phone.

 

When he sees the caller ID, it’s like his heart stops for a moment.

 

_Jenabella_

 

He never even knew Will had her number, but apparently he does. It’s even saved in his contacts and now Zachary is frozen in place, finding himself faced with the very real fact that his ex-girlfriend who he cheated on his current boyfriend with, is now calling said boyfriend. And if Will had been here, not busy helping Hai beat that level, then- Will would have- _They_ could very well be talking right now. And Zachary wouldn’t even know.

 

How often has she called Will? Have they been in contact? Since when? And why?

 

No. No. If they had been in contact, Will would have known that it had been Jena Zachary had slept with, and Zachary would have noticed that, right? Will knowing something like that, he would have. Unless Will was a far better liar and actor than Zachary was giving him credit for.

 

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Zachary accepts the call with a swipe of his thumb.

 

“Why are you calling Will?” he snaps immediately.

 

There is silence on the other side of the line for just the fraction of a second.

 

“Oh. Zach.” Jena chuckles. “Babe, if I wanted to talk to you, I would have called _you._ So-“

 

Zachary’s fingers clench around the phone. She sounds so chirpy, nonchalant, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. It drives him crazy. He glances at the hallway again. Will could be back any minute.

 

“Why. The. Fuck. Are you calling him?” he gets out through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to not be too loud. The last thing he wants is for his voice to carry through the walls, somebody being able to listen in on this conversation.

 

“C’mon. You know why.” She says. She isn’t laughing anymore, but there is still something teasing left in there, something mocking.

 

“No.” Zachary presses his lips into a tight line. “I don’t.”

 

“You’ve never been a good liar, Zach.” She says in a matter of fact kind of way, “Which is quite ironic, don’t you think? Given your track record when it comes to fidelity.”

 

Zachary blushes beet red at her words, feeling shame bubbling up in his stomach. It’s not that he thought his answer was a particularly good lie, it had just been a quick retort, not wanting to agree with her at all costs, but she had to go all in, calling him out like this.

 

“Listen-“ he begins, not sure what he wants to say yet, but sure that he has to. He can’t just let this stand like this. It doesn’t make sense, what she’s saying. She’s talking about fidelity, when she doesn’t even know that Zachary used to sleep with Will when Jena and him still had been a couple. And she doesn’t _know_ now that Zachary is in a relationship with Will either, right? How could she know? She talked about Zachary’s new _girlfriend_ when they met in the restaurant, so of course she can’t know. She just can’t.

 

Zachary tries to ignore the tiny whisper in his head asking, why, if she really doesn’t know, she would be calling Will.

 

“You know I’m not stupid, Zachy.” Jena continues on the other end of the line. “Our little bathroom encounter-“ she pauses and for a few moments there is nothing but a soft humming noise coming from her, like always when she’s drinking her cappuccino. When she continues, it's like Zachary's veins are being filled with ice.. Her voice is cold and calculating.

 

“I know you and him are fucking.” She says, then she chuckles. “Cute little boyfriends. Warms my heart. Really. So I thought I’d give dear Will a call, to you know…discuss your dick, from one bitch to another.”

 

Zachary can’t speak. She knows. Of course she knows. And of course that’s why she is calling Will. It’s like she can read his mind.

 

“Or are you the one getting fucked? Hm? Does he fuck you real good, sweetie?” she doesn’t even give Zachary a chance to get a response in, she just laughs, apparently too amused by her own vile words. “Well, apparently not, or you wouldn’t have felt the need to-“

 

“Fuck you Jena.” Zachary snaps, voice a little too loud maybe, but it’s the only way he can stop it from trembling. “Fuck you. What was your plan? Calling him to tell him about what we did? That we fucked? To screw things up for me? Hurt me? Fuck you, you scheming bitch.” He runs a quivering hand through his fringe, his eyes flickering to the hallway again and again. He should have gone to his room. Should have just declined the call. Should have never slept with her. “Jokes on you. I already told him. I told him what I did. You have no fucking power-“

 

It’s true. In a way. Will knows. He knows Zachary cheated and that’s all he really needs to know. It’s fine. Zachary told him and Will still doesn’t hate him. For some irrational reason, Will doesn’t hate him. Will didn’t break up with him. She can’t do anything to him. To them. She can’t do shit.

 

“Oh you did?” Jena sounds genuinely surprised, but it turns back to taunting quickly enough. “Well, color me impressed. I didn’t think you had the balls. Brave, brave Zachary broke sweet Will’s heart. Did he cry?” she giggles and Zachary wants to smash the phone against the wall, “I bet he did. You don’t have to tell me, I can picture it vividly.”

 

“Just shut your damn mouth, Jena!” Zachary hisses, “You don’t know shit about him. About us.”

 

_Us._ Zachary regrets his choice of words the second they are out, but it’s too late to take it back. Calling them an us, feels a little like painting a target on his own back, like he’s making himself and Will more vulnerable even though she had already revealed that she knows about them being together.

 

Still. Us, is different. He used to be an _us_ with her, once upon a time. Or rather, he should have been.

 

“Oh, don’t tell me you are trying to make it work?” she exclaims, sounding honestly excited, “God he has less self-respect than I thought.”

 

Before Zachary can answer anything to that there are suddenly footsteps and Zachary finds himself freezing. It’s not Will though who comes in. It’s just An, shuffling into the kitchen and rummaging through the fridge without so much as looking at Zachary. But it prevents Zachary from talking, too scared he might give something away, no matter what he says now.

 

Maybe Jena has a sixth sense or something, because she seems to know exactly that he isn’t able to response to her right now. She just continues, making Zachary blush with anger and embarrassment.

 

“Honestly that would be pretty pitiable. Pathetic even…but I understand. Up to a certain point… Anyway. One last question?”

 

There are so many things Zachary wants to say to her right now, but he can’t. An still hasn’t left the room yet even though he’s slowly shuffling in the direction of the hallway, while typing on his phone. And apart from that, what is he supposed to say? He can’t really tell Jena that she’s wrong. They are trying to make it work and yes, Will for some reason hasn’t broken it off yet and yes, yes it doesn’t make sense and it most likely says more about Will’s self-esteem and his feelings for Zachary, than Zachary is comfortable with Jena knowing.

 

“If you told him you cheated,” Jena says and out of her mouth, it sounds even more shaming than when Will had said it, “did you also tell him, that it was me? Did you tell him it was your ex, you cheated on him with? Does he know _that_?”

 

Zachary’s throat feels dry. An is gone now. The room is empty again. It is just him and Jena’s voice and her words. He swallows.

 

“Yes.” he lies, “Doesn’t make a difference anyway.”

 

“Honey,” on the other end of the line Jena seems highly amused again, “To him it does. Trust me on this.”

 

“Fuck you.” Zachary spits but he knows she is right. It would make a difference, probably. Maybe not as much that it was Jena, but just somebody they both knew, not a stranger, but someone _real_ , someone that used to be a part of their life at one point.

 

“Anyway, lovely chat, Zach. Tell Will I said hi, would you?” she ends the phone call quickly, and suddenly. The beeping sound indicating her hanging up comes before Zachary can even register her words. For a few moments he just stands here, in the middle of the living room, staring at Will’s phone. Maybe a moment too long.

 

He can hear footsteps in the hallway, so before he can think of anything else, he follows his first instinct, quickly selecting the block option, effectively blocking Jena’s number for Will’s phone. The second he presses the confirm tab Will comes in.

 

He stops, furrowing his brows. Zachary holds his breath.

 

“What are you doing with my phone?” he asks carefully.

 

Zachary fumbles with the phone for a moment, locking it, before pressing it into Will’s hand, giving the other boy a smile. “Just checked if you had an alarm set for tomorrow.”

 

“No. I don’t.” Will says, slipping the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Should I?”

 

Zachary quickly sits down on the couch, tugging his legs up underneath him. “No. I just wanted to make sure we can sleep in tomorrow.”

 

“Ah. Yeah.” Will sits down next to Zachary. There’s still a lot more space between them than there used to, but Zachary guesses it’s a start. If he moves his legs, his knee almost nudges Will’s thigh and that’s something, right? Plus they have been sleeping in the same bed again for three out of the past five nights. It’s good. It’s good and Will seems to be willing to believe Zachary’s phone story.

 

Will takes the remote and unmutes the TV. There’s some trash show running but Will likes it so Zachary decides to be content with it too.

 

Of course it would be more bearable if they could make out while watching, but that doesn’t really seem up for debate at the moment. Even though they had that restroom encounter during the games against TL and the various making out/kissing after that, it’s still a little off, not quite how they used to be before, and of course Zachary gets that they can’t just jump back like nothing happened, but he does miss it. He misses the comfort and the familiarity. He misses just being able to tell Will to come over here and kiss him until he forgets that the TV is even running.

 

Zachary wonders if Will misses it too.

 

“What?” Will asks suddenly, averting his eyes from the TV to look at Zachary.

 

“What what?” Zachary repeats dumbly, crossing his arms.

 

Will rolls his eyes, “You are staring at me.” He points out.

 

Zachary flushes, purposefully staring at the TV now. “And why would I be staring at you, huh?”

 

“Because you noticed how I brushed my hair differently today, but you haven’t figured out yet how to tell me that it looks fricking amazing?”

 

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of Zachary’s mouth and he shoots Will a quick glance. Now Will is the one looking at him. He’s not smiling, not really, but his eyes aren’t as guarded as they are so very often ever since _it_ happened.

 

“Yeah, you are right.” Zachary says, “That’s it. I’m staring, because I really love- … like-like… your hair. Today. How it looks. The brushing, A+.”

 

“Is that so?” Will quirks an eyebrow.

 

Zachary shrugs, looking back to the TV, because he can feel himself turning red again. He hates how quickly he blushes. It’s like his face has the unstoppable urge to alert everyone immediately of his feelings. “Maybe.”

 

Will is silent for a while.

 

_Maybe_.

 

He can see Will’s lips forming the word, quietly as he looks straight at the TV.

 

“Maybe isn’t enough anymore, Zach.” He says eventually, voice so quiet Zachary could almost pretend he didn’t hear it over the volume of the TV. Almost.

 

Zachary glances at him. Will is looking down on his hands and the worst thing is, he doesn’t even seem to expect an answer, almost like he hadn’t been talking to Zachary at all. And that idea hurt.

 

But then Will turns to look at Zachary.

 

“I love you.” He says, his face twisted into a somewhat pained, somewhat determined expression “I love you and you fucked somebody else. And I’m trying to forgive you. I really am, Zach. But _maybe_ isn’t enough anymore. Like-like isn’t enough anymore.”

 

Zachary knows what Will wants him to say, what he wants to hear, has wanted for a while now. And he should say it. He knows he should. And it’s not like he doesn’t feel it, it’s not like it would be a lie, but the thought of saying it, making it real makes Zachary’s throat close up.

 

“Will-“

 

Will sighs, before Zachary has the chance to say anything else.

 

“Don’t.” he says quietly “I just- I’m not asking you to say it right now, Zach. But I need you to understand that… things can’t continue like they were before. They can’t, because if they do- if they do _I_ can’t do this. Because I love you. And I thought some part of you loved me too, but-“

 

Zachary hates the way Will’s voice breaks, the way he doesn’t even look at him, how guilty it makes Zachary feel. When he had asked Will to not break up, confused and overwhelmed with the situation he hadn’t known what exactly he was asking of him. What that might cost Will. He looks at Will now and he hears Jena’s voice in his head, talking about self-respect.

 

Will is still saying that he loves Zachary. Not loved. Not past tense. He _loves_ him. That hasn’t changed. For some unexplainable reason that hasn’t changed. What changed is that now Will says it like it hurts.

 

“I’m so sorry for what happened.” Zachary whispers, daring to reach for Will’s hand. He doesn’t pull away, lets Zachary intertwine their fingers and that lessens the ache Zachary feels at Will’s words a little.

 

Will looks at him. “What you _did._ ”

 

Zachary swallows, “Yes. What I did.”

 

He looks down at their joined hands, then at Wil again who has chosen to stare at the TV again only to turn back to Zachary after a few seconds.

 

He clears his throat, “Zach, what did you do with my phone?”

 

“Nothing.” Zachary answers after a moment of hesitation, “Just checked for the alarm.”

 

Will just nods, but he doesn’t let go of Zachary’s hand, so Zachary decides to just ask, to just ignore how stupid and embarrassing this is. He tugs at Will’s hand and without looking at the other boy he mumbles “Can I kiss you now?”

 

The pause is agonizingly long, but Zachary doesn’t look up, just looks at their hands, feeling Will’s gaze on him but unable to meet it.

 

 “Do you want to kiss me?” Will asks eventually “…or do you just want to kiss somebody?”

 

Zachary lets out a shaky breath. This is good. That question is easy, he can answer this.

 

“I want to kiss _you._ All the fucking time.”

 

Because it’s true. He does want to kiss Will all the time. It’s pretty annoying and clingy and after one year it should have gone down a bit, but it hasn’t and while Zachary is just a tiny bit embarrassed by it, it’s still a better answer, still something Will will like more than if Zachary had said that kissing him is a good way of having them stop talking.

 

“Okay,” Will breathes out giving Zachary a tiny smile, before he grabs the collar of Zachary’s shirt, pulling him closer, while leaning back at the same time so now Zachary is on top of Will, lying between his legs with Will looking up at him. Zachary has to plant his hands on both sides of Will’s head to keep himself up and for a short moment they just look at each other.

 

“Then kiss me.” Will whispers and so Zachary does. He leans down and presses his lips onto Will’s, feeling the other boy kiss him back after only a moment.

 

It’s slow and gentle but it makes Zachary’s heart beat faster nonetheless. Will’s hand has wandered from Zachary’s collar to his jaw. He’s not pulling him in yet, but it’s an offer, a plea. Maybe Will _does_ miss this as much as Zachary. In response Zachary deepens the kiss, carefully parting his lips so his tongue can lick against Will’s lips, make him open his mouth too.

 

Like this, with Will kissing him, feeling his body against his, Zachary can’t even think about Jena, about the phone call, about his lies to Will or anything else. Kissing Will just feels good, especially when Will has let his free hand wander to Zachary’s lower back, slowly inching lower until he’s almost-

 

 “Boys.“

 

The sudden sound of Jack’s voice makes Zachary’s head snap up, finding their manager standing near the kitchen looking at them.

 

“Come on. I don’t want jizz on the couch again, could you-“ Jack nods into the direction of their rooms, chuckling mildly.

 

Okay, yeah, maybe he’s right. Maybe they shouldn’t be making out in the living room where anybody could walk in and see, as it just had happened, so Zachary is ready to climb off of Will, but Will wraps his arms around him quickly, effectively keeping him in place.

 

Will glances at Jack.

 

 “…don’t worry, Jack.” He says in a tone that’s somewhere between sarcastic and pissed. Zachary is probably one of the few people who gets the difference with Will, “I’m quite good at swallowing.”

 

If they were in a comic and this was some ridiculous comedic scene, this would have been the moment where Zachary would spit out his nonexistent drink, just before he broke out into laughter, burying his face in Will’s chest.

 

Will however isn’t laughing.

 

Jack shakes his head, smiling. “Great. Zachary is a very lucky man. Still, move it to your room, yeah?”

 

Zachary nods quickly, untangling himself from Will’s embrace so he can sit up, or rather ‘kneel up’ between Will’s legs. Will just throws an arm over his face, seemingly unwilling to move.

 

“Will…” Zachary pokes his side, but Will doesn’t react. Then after a few moments he does sit up, eyes flickering to Jack, then back to Zachary.

 

“You know,” he mumbles as he reaches for the remote to switch the TV off, “When Danaan and his girl make out on this couch nobody ever says shit.”

 

Zachary shifts uncomfortable, adjusting his fringe “But that’s different.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Yeah, now c’mon.” Zachary gets up quickly, grabbing Will’s hand to pull him up into a standing position.

 

Will gets up, somewhat reluctantly, while Zachary waits, ready to comply to what has Jack asked of them. He doesn’t even question it, doesn’t seem bothered by it or what Will has said. In fact he seems somewhat oblivious to the fact that it’s not just a _‘Yeah whatever’_ and be done with it situation. Not for Will. But then again, it’s surprising or uncharacteristic. It’s Zachary after all. Still the same. Still same view on their relationship, always ready to push it aside, to put other shit first.

 

Him cheating was just the logical extreme of some sort.

 

Will wants to say ‘ _Wrong answer’_ , but at the same time he doesn’t. For a short moment things had been good, Zachary had asked to kiss him, had been sweet and kind and even though he hadn’t said ‘I love you’ back, he hadn’t looked too taken aback by Will’s little emotional speech. And he hadn’t said he didn’t love Will and even though Will knows that it shouldn’t count for anything it still does. It still means something to him. It’s still a maybe and Will can’t live with that for much longer but it’s not a no either. Maybe it’s a soon? Maybe it can be.

 

Zachary fumbles with his fringe, the other hand that had been in Will’s only moments ago now buried deep in the pocket of his hoodie.

 

Out of the corner of his eye Will can still see Jack in the kitchen.

 

“Didn’t you want to stream a bit today?” Will chooses to say, keeping his voice even with a small smile on his lips. “Why don’t you go and start and I join you later for duo queue?”

 

Zachary frowns slightly, glancing at Will, then at Jack and back at Will. He bites his lip and then after another few moments have passed by he gives a tiny nod.

 

Will hesitates a moment before walking up to Jack.

 

He leans against the counter next to him, watches him slice the apple into even pieces with one of their sharp kitchen knives. Jack doesn’t look up, but his voice is friendly when he speaks.

 

“Will.” He says and when Will remains quiet he adds “What is it?”

 

Will shifts a little, adjusting his glasses and letting his gaze wander through the room. He’s not really sure what he wants from this conversation or why he didn’t just follow Zachary to his room, kept on kissing him, further working on the whole getting over the cheating thing. Just fuck him or get fucked by him. Get it over with, rip the band aid off or something. He wants to, wants to make it work, his own words, telling Zachary that they aren’t breaking up echoing in his head. But it’s difficult. It’s hard. Every step of the way is a fight.

 

Some days Will wakes up and for a few moments he doesn’t even think about it. He gets up to eat breakfast and he doesn’t mind sharing the last coco pops with Zachary, doesn’t mind Zachary dipping his spoon into Will’s bowl with that cheeky smile on his lips, but then it always changes, one look, one touch and Will is reminded that this is not normal, that Zachary is trying so hard to be nice and sweet not because he wants to, but because he feels guilty, because Hai _told_ him to make it work, to try. And not because of Will, because he really wants to.

 

Of course Will could always ask, could demand Zachary to talk to him tell him what he’s really thinking, but that, talking, is still hard, maybe for some fucked up reason even more than before. Every word is a fight and the short conversation just minutes ago, Will finally managing to call Zachary out on his _maybes_ , the evasions and avoiding, has left him feeling like he rubbed sandpaper all over his skin.

 

It’s so much easier not to say anything, just fall back into how they worked before, but they can’t really do that either. Before doesn’t exist anymore. Before is now tainted, because it lead Zachary into the arms of someone else.

 

When Will still doesn’t answer Jack looks up eventually, eyeing Will with one eyebrow raised expectantly.

 

Will clears his throat. “My mom cheated on my dad.” He says, the words taking him by surprise probably just as much as Jack, who looks at him with undisguised bewilderment. Will swallows, “Or at least that’s what he always used to say.”

 

He makes his voice sound almost indifferent, like he’s talking about nothing important, the weather or something, not some deeply buried family issues that he hasn’t ever really talked about with anyone. And Jack sure as hell isn’t one he’d chose to confide in under usual circumstances. He doesn’t really talk to anyone about any of this. It’s quite ironic now that he’s thinking about it, how he used to be annoyed by Zachary avoiding to talk about important issues, when Will’s the one with the secrets.

 

But here he is and the words just tumbled out, they had just lurked somewhere inside him, somewhere beneath the surface. Will remembers his dad saying those things to him, vile things about his mom being a frigid bitch, but in the same breath calling her a whore that bends over for anyone. It had been nothing, probably just taunting, just mockery, just half an arsed excuse or whatever.

 

“Oh.” Jack says looking clearly uncomfortable as he scratches his head. Will doesn’t blame him. He wouldn’t know how to react to that either, “Uhm. Is that why they are divorced?”

 

It’s a lame attempt at conversation and steering the topic away from the obvious course to something more sociably acceptable to talk about. Lots of people are divorced, parents break up, families don’t work out, it’s nothing uncommon and as far as Jack knows it’s that easy in Will’s case as well. It’s a saver topic than the fact that cheating seems to be a damn constant, in one way or another, in Will’s life for some in explicable reason. And Jack doesn’t even know half of it.

 

It’s almost funny. Funny in the way that makes Will feel like crying.

 

“No.” Will answers truthfully, but he chooses not to elaborate. He could correct Jack, tell him that his parents are, in fact, not divorced, but still legally married even though they have been separated for about 7 years now and Will hasn’t seen his father in just as long. He doesn’t say that his parents’ separation had nothing to do with cheating or anything of the sort, but the fact that his dad became a resident of the Nottoway Correctional Center. Prison. It’s not for Jack to know and Will curses himself for bringing his family up at all, but everything is so out of order, talking, not talking, it’s confusing.

 

Jack seems confused too. “Okay?” he asks seemingly unsure whether or not this conversation is going anywhere. Or maybe he’s genuinely interested. It’s a strange thought even though Will technically knows that Jack cares for them. The other boys like him and Will doesn’t really have anything against him either. It’s just a certain undefined subliminal mistrust against him that Will never quite managed to shake off. He’s always had this, with teachers, doctors, his boss at his summer job in 10th grade. Male authority figures or something. At least that’s what his guidance counselor had said at some point.

 

“If your wife cheated on you, what would you do?” Will asks and he can see in Jack’s eyes that the man is unsure if Will is still alluding to his parents or if they’ve circled back to the more imminent situation between Will and Zachary.

 

Eventually Jack puts on a face that’s somewhere between stern and concerned, “Will, I’m not sure this conversation-” _–is appropriate? –helpful? –a good idea?_

 

“What would you do?”

 

Will doesn’t let Jack finish the sentence. He’s aware of all those things, of why this conversation shouldn’t really be happening, but what does he know anyway, which talks should be had and which should be not. He just knows that for some reason he needs Jack to answer. It’s not like he can apply whatever Jack will say to his situation anyway, it’s too different, too tangled up, but the essence is simple. Being cheated on, how is one supposed to react to that?

 

Jack sighs, submitting to giving something of an answer apparently even though he still seems like he’d prefer to not have this talk with Will.

 

“Honestly…” Jack says, rubbing his neck. “It would be a deal breaker for me.”

 

As expected. It’s what you do when you are cheated on. You end things, break up, move on, all that. It’s the logical reaction and Will is aware of that, so the sinking feeling he feels at Jack’s words inside his chest doesn’t make any sense. Except that a part of him had hoped for a different answer. Perhaps he had hoped that Jack would say something about second chances about forgiveness and how mistakes happen.

 

But he doesn’t and it makes Will throat feel dry. If Jack had said those things, Will could have maybe used it to justify his own choices, staying with Zachary. Sure, it’s not the same, what he asked Jack and what Zachary did. What Zachary did hasn’t been a first time offence. Not really. Zachary cheated on Will, yes. That was one time. One mistake. But he cheated on Jena too. _With_ Will.

 

It’s a pattern and maybe Will should have seen it coming. Fucking maybe.

 

“Will, are you going to break up with Zachary?” Jack asks after a few long stretching moments of silence. The implications of this question are clear in the tone of his voice, it’s almost like Will can feel them on his skin. It’s not just Jack asking a simple question, not just him being interested in their relationship out of the goodness of his heart. Jack is a business man and this shit, the whole messed up stuff evolving around Will and Zachary, it affects Jack’s business. And if Will is planning to alter the team dynamic even more he needs to inform Jack beforehand. Probably needs to talk it through with management first, discuss it here, discuss it there, keep the team in mind, eyes on the game and shit and everything. It’s not just Will’s decision and that is not up for debate. The look in Jack’s eyes is a reminder of that.

 

 Will almost laughs, “Would I even be allowed to?”

 

“Of course you would be.” Jack crosses his arms, “It’s your relationship.”

 

Will knows this should be the end of their conversation, knows he should just take this out and walk away. It doesn’t matter if Jack is lying to him or not. It doesn’t, because he knows the truth and so does Jack, but the way Jack says it, _your relationship_ , there is something accusing in it, something that feels an awful lot like adding fuel to the fire.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Will says, barely managing to keep the harshness in his voice to an acceptable level, “ _My_ relationship? Before the TL games, I _heard_ Hai telling Zachary that he has- fucking has to make it work. Make _us_ work. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

 

It had only been a few words, barely anything at all and yet enough, what Will had heard when he had walked into the living room to tell Hai and Zachary that the van was ready. Hai telling Zachary that he just has to make things work, that they need Meteos to function, and Zachary asking what Hai wants him to do. And ever since, the idea that maybe Zachary didn’t even want Will to forgive him, but was just still in it for the team, has founds it’s way on the list of things Will is scared about.

 

He hates it, having to second guess everything, every touch, every move. Yes, Zachary hasn’t said he didn’t love Will, and Will wants to believe that that lack of rejection is a promise of _soon_ , but it might as well be nothing at all.

 

“Hai only has the team’s best interest in mind.” Jack says calmly but sternly, almost like he’s talking to a child. “And I suggest you follow his example.”

 

“Fuck the team’s best interest!” Will snaps, regretting his words as soon as they are out, but it’s too late he can’t unsay them and the look on Jack’s face makes Will take a step back. He balls his hands into angry fists, useless at his sides, his jaw set tight. He didn’t mean to say it, but he won’t take it back either. He loves the team, loves C9, he really does and he does want the best for them. But right now, right this moment Will just feels angry, angry and tired and still so hurt and for some reason nobody seems to get that. Sure they dance around him, interactions varying from strangely nice to mildly awkward, but not once has anybody really attempted to talk to him. Except for Hai telling him to get his shit together.

 

“Watch your mouth, Meteos.“ Jack stresses, anger more than just visible in his gaze as he narrows his eyes. “Know your place.”

 

“How am I supposed to feel, Jack?” Will repeats nevertheless and he wishes his voice wouldn’t be trembling as much, “Is he still with me because Hai told him to? Or because he wants to? He fucked somebody else. He fucked somebody else so clearly I’m not enough. I fucked up. I get it. I brought this on myself and the team, but- Fuck I-“

 

_Now I don’t know if he really wants to fight for us or if he’s just following Hai’s call._

 

It’s not like Zachary ever really fought for Will, for them, what they have, had or could have. Letting Jack send them away from the couch for whatever dumb reason without even arguing is just another tiny part of it.

 

 “Everybody is so in-fucking-volved, it’s-“ Will looks to the ground helplessly. Maybe it’s good that nobody ever tries to talk to him. He stumbles over his words like an idiot and even struggles to formulate his thoughts let alone actual sentences.

 

If he’d talked to his dad this way, he’d at least have a bloody lip by now.

 

“This is your job.” Jack cuts in sharply before Will can say another word. “And before anything else Sneaky is your colleague. You are professionals. You have a job to do.”

 

Will can feel the weight of Jack’s words on his shoulders, they make it hard not to look away again. It’s strange feeling so small when technically, he is taller than Jack, but that doesn’t matter because Jack is right, Jack is the boss, Jack has the power. And because of this fucked up professional e-sports world they live in it’s not just a nine to five, not just a work thing. It’s everything. Will feels tears burning in his eyes and he’d very much like to just turn around and walk away now, but Jack isn’t done yet and his eyes keep Will rooted in place.

 

 “And Will, I’ve been patient with you, giving you and Zachary more space and let some of your bullshit slip,” Jack continues, “But I’ve had it. You are my employee and I expect a certain behavior and a certain level of professionalism from you. Is that clear?”

 

Will looks down to his feet, jaw set tight and lips pressed together. He swallows around the lump in his throat but it does nothing against how dry it feels or how much he’s unable to answer. He’s afraid if he opens his mouth the wrong words will come out anyway, too angry, too provoking, too defiant. Wouldn’t be the first time that gets him into trouble.

 

“Is that clear, Meteos?” Jack repeats in a stern and measured tone that has Will feel cold all over. “We got finals to play in a couple of days. If I need to bench you, tell me now.”

 

“You don’t.”

 

Will whips around to find Zachary standing in the doorway, but he’s not looking at Will. He’s looking at Jack who seems equally surprised by Zachary showing up suddenly as Will is.

 

Zachary puts on a smile, taking the few steps it takes for him to stand next to Will before speaking. He doesn’t take Will’s hand, doesn’t intertwine their fingers, but he brushes the back of Will’s hand with his fingertips and for the moment that’s more than enough.

 

“It’s all good, Jack.” Zachary says, “Nobody needs to be benched. Will, me, the team, we will give it our best. Like always. I promise you.”

 

Will doesn’t look up, just keeps on staring on the ground while Jack and Zachary have what Will assumes must be some sort of silent staring contest or whatever. It stretches on for what feels like forever but probably isn’t more than a few seconds before Jack gives them a curt but sharp “Good.” That is apparently there cue to leave, because suddenly Zachary _does_ take Will’s hand in his, tugging him away into the hallway towards his room.

 

“What the fuck?” is what Zachary says as soon as the door falls shut behind them, Will stays quiet, just slowly sits down on the bed, tugging his fingers through his hair methodically.

 

Zachary stares at him, “What was that? What’s with you, dude?”

 

Will looks away, feeling his face heating up with shame, his behavior, the way he talked to Jack; the things he said, it all feels so silly and immature now, so over the top and uncalled-for. He doesn’t have an excuse. It’s just that he’s so tightly wound these days, always ready to snap and yet so brittle at the same time. It’s a shitty combination that makes him act like an arsehole and constantly has him on the verge of tears. He hates it, hates feeling like this and a part of him hates Zachary for calling him out, however justified and needed it may be.

 

“What do you mean?” he mutters nevertheless.

 

“You are so-“ Zachary makes some vague hand gestures, seemingly unable to find the right word, “Irritable? Like, you are so angry and ready to pick a fight whenever, I mean- I don’t know you like that.” He looks at Will helplessly, “That’s not you. Why are you so- so angry-“

 

“Wh- Why am I- Why am I angry?” Will’s voice only trembles slightly when he finishes Zachary’s question for him. He shakes his head, looking at Zachary disbelieving, “Are you shitting me? _Why_ am I angry?”

 

“I-,” Zachary at least has the decency to look down for a short moment a blush creeping on his cheeks. “…I mean. I know things suck right now, because of what hap-“ he stops himself, “what I did, but- but that’s not Jack’s fault. Like… If you gotta be angry at someone…”

 

He lets his voice trail into silence, but Will doesn’t need him to finish the sentence. Of course the person Will should be, and is, angry at is Zachary himself. They both know that, but the sudden vulnerability in Zachary’s voice, the way he looks away and has his hands tugged into the sleeves of his sweater, it reminds Will too much of the night where Zachary asked him, with trembling lips, to not hate him, to not ever hate him, because he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

 

“I can’t be angry at you, Zach.” Will finds himself saying, sounding somewhat more resigned than he intended to. He can see the question in Zachary’s eyes, so before Zachary can ask, Will takes in a deep breath, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. Without looking at Zachary he adds, “Because I love you. And I just want things to be good between us again. And apart from that…I mean you did what you did, because _I_ wasn’t enough. So. I’m to blame as much as you.”

 

“Please don’t say that.” Zachary whispers, sitting down next to Will on the bed, so close their shoulders are brushing without them even moving. After a moment Zachary clears his throat, “What you said to Jack, about me just being with you because of what Hai said… It’s not true. By the way.”

 

Will looks at Zachary and the pained expression on his face, the way he wrings his fingers in his lap and his eyebrows furrows. It’s almost ridiculous how difficult this talking thing seems to be for them.

 

But apparently Zachary is trying and Zachary came back. Came back for Will and at least somewhat in some way stood up for him.

 

So Will chooses not to say that even if Zachary isn’t still with Will because of what Hai said, that’s exactly how they started. That the only reason they made this ‘friends with benefits’-thing into a relationship was because of the pressure from Hai and Lemon, after they had found out about it.

 

He doesn’t say anything and after a moment Zachary continues.

 

“I’m-,” Zachary exhales, shooting Will a glance, “You said we weren’t over. When I asked you. _That_ is why we are still trying. Why I’m still with you. Not because of-“ he gestures to the door, “- _them._ And you… you are enough. You are… I wouldn’t even know how to be around you without being _with_ you, okay? _”_

 

“Then why did you cheat?” Will asks and Zachary’s hand stills where it had been playing with the little curly hairs in the nape of Will’s neck.

 

He is silent for an endlessly long moment and for the fraction of a second Will fears he might actually state a reason. A real one. One specific thing not the vague ideas and fears Will has formulated in his head ever since Zachary had confessed.

 

“…I don’t know.” Is what Zachary says and it may be a lie, it may be unsatisfying and unhelpful as hell, but Will decides to believe him.

 

He doesn’t want to be angry at Zachary. He wants things to be good. And Zachary is trying. He really seems to be trying. In his own way.

 

Will swallows, “Okay.”

 

Zachary still hasn’t removed his hand from Will’s neck and even though a part of Will isn’t sure if he even wants to be touched by Zachary he still leans into the touch, tilting his head so Zachary can card his fingers through Will’s hair, use it to pull Will closer until their foreheads are touching and Will can feel Zachary’s breath on his skin.

 

Zachary brings up his free hand to cup Will’s jaw and then slowly and gently he brushes their lips together. First barely a touch, barely a kiss and it makes Will’s heart stutter in anticipation, because when Zachary really starts kissing him, still soft and gentle, he can feel it in his whole body, every cell, every drop of blood inside him reacts to him and his ability to make Will block out everything else but the feeling of being kissed.

 

It’s unfair really, that Zachary can do that, act like an arse and cheat, and Will still melts in his hands like ice in the Californian sun.

 

“Will…” Zachary mumbles against Will’s lips, when they part and Will can’t help the small sound, low in his throat, that escapes him at the loss of contact.

 

“Will,” Zachary repeats, as Will lets his forehead drop to Zachary’s shoulder, nuzzling the crook of his neck, taking in the familiar scent. “Will, you need to apologize to Jack…”

 

Will freezes, then after a moment of silence, of nothing but the sound of their breathing and his own heartbeat surrounds them he whispers “No.” against Zachary’s skin. There’s a childish stubbornness and defiance bubbling up in his chest and even though he rationally knows that Zachary is right, he already knows that he isn’t going to do it. He doesn’t want to. There’s only so much he can take in regards of being forgiving and saying sorry and making himself even smaller than he feels. It doesn’t matter if he’s wrong, he doesn’t think whatever little is left of his pride could take crawling to Jack’s feet now and apologize for his outburst.

 

“No. Jack can suck it.” Will letting himself fall backwards until his back hits the mattress and all he can see for a moment is the ceiling above them. “Of course I fucking care about the team’s wellbeing. If he doesn’t know that then-“ Will pauses, “then he-“his voice cracks and he can feel the mattress shift as Zachary lies down next to him, “I mean I’m- why would-“

 

When Will tilts his head he finds Zachary looking at him, his brows furrowed and his eyes glistening with something between worry and guilt. For a moment it seems like he’s about to say something, but in the end, he just smiles weakly, reaching out to brush a strand of bleached hair out of Will’s eyes.

 

“I just …I wish it would just stop.” Will whispers, his voice breaking in a way that makes him close his eyes in shame. He’s just so damn tired. It’s all too much.

 

“What?” Zachary asks quietly, his fingers having moved on to playing with one of Will’s hoodie’s strings. “What do you want to stop?”

 

 

He’s so sweet and gentle and Will hates it, he hates that it makes him feel better. Not much but a tiny unearned bit, simply by being there, by caring, by letting Will press his face to his shoulder, stroking his back and not laughing at the emotional mess Will has become. Will used to think that after all this time, after all that has happened that he lived through he has control over his body and his emotions at least to some extent but Zachary proves him wrong, every day every second and it’s not fair. Nothing is.

 

And despite him begging his body to not betray him, he can feel the pent up emotional exhaustion scratching at the edges of his raw throat and he can’t just hold it in anymore. Before he knows it he can feel tears, wet and hot on his cheeks and even though he presses his eyes shut tighter, trying to hold them in and not let out a pitiful sob Zachary must have felt the wetness on his shoulder, because he pulls back a little looking at Will in a way that makes him want to die of shame.

 

“What do you want to stop?” Zachary whispers and he actually genuinely sounds scared.

 

“Everything.” Will whispers even though he knows in the back of his mind that that is not the answer Zachary wants to hear. He wants Will to tell him that he doesn’t mean them, doesn’t want _them_ to stop and while Will likes the idea of Zachary not wanting that, he just doesn’t have the energy right now to reassure him.

 

For a long while Zachary doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t leave either and Will lets out a surprised gasp, when Zachary pulls him into his arms.

 

“It’s okay.” He mumbles into Will’s hair and despite Zachary hugging him so tightly breathing feels a little easier when by all logic Zachary’s arms around his ribcage should restrict it. “We…we got break soon. Going home, yeah? Just a couple more days. One more series. Just stupid finals and it’s done.” He presses a kiss into Will’s hair and his voice just cracks the slightest bit “It’s going to be okay.” _We are going to be okay._

 

“Home.” Will echoes and he can feel Zachary nod.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They lay like this for half an eternity, maybe less, just wrapped up in each other until Will’s breathing has finally calmed down again and there are no more tears dwelling in his eyes. Will clears his throat, untangling himself a bit from Zachary so he can wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie and maybe regain some of his dignity while he’s at it. Zachary just watches him.

 

“I-” Will pauses for a moment, inhaling and exhaling deeply, feeling the air over the raw edges of his throat, “My… my mom texted me this morning. She asked what your favorite food was so she could make it for you when-” he cuts himself off again because the look of guilt flashing across Zachary’s face makes his smile fall. The thought of his mom being excited for Will to come home and bring Zachary as his boyfriend along is amazing, or would be, if it weren’t for what they are both thinking about right now. “I haven’t answered her yet.”

 

He doesn’t have to say why. It hurts to think about how much this would have made Zachary grin just a couple of weeks ago, the fact that Will’s mom seems to like him so much, caring about what food he likes, always telling Will to greet him from her when they talk on the phone, all that. Zachary always makes that surprised little face when those things happen and Will pretends that it doesn’t break his heart, because even though Zachary never really says it, they both know that Zachary’s own mom rarely ever shows her son this kind of affection. And that’s neither right nor fair, but in this moment that is not what makes them both halt, gazing at each other in silence.

 

Zachary hesitates, “...am I still…”

 

He doesn’t finish his question and this time Will decides not to meet him halfway and add the missing words. Instead he closes his eyes, concentrates on his breathing, while his mind reminds him of that moment that feels ages ago now, where he hadn’t _known_ yet, just had had that bad feeling, that collection of hints and clues making him question, but not yet concluding. He just hadn’t want it to be true and yet he had asked, he had asked Zachary if maybe there was a reason why he should tell his mom that Zachary wouldn’t come home with him during the break and Zachary had said no.

 

The memory of it feels mocking now.

 

“Am I still invited?” Zachary asks and Will snaps his eyes open finding Zachary’s gazing at him unsurely, his cheeks flushed and one hand fumbling with his fringe.

 

“Well…” Will sighs, licking his chapped lips to give himself some time to think. “I told my mom that I’d bring my boyfriend and-“He looks at Zachary, “You still are. My boyfriend I mean so…”

 

It’s really not fair how the small smile tugging at the corner of Zachary’s perfect lips makes Will’s heart jump and it’s even less fair that Will’s body’s immediate response is to return it.

 

“Stop smiling.” He demands, poking Zachary’s cheek. “I’m still- You still fucking fucked up.”

 

Zachary looks down remorsefully. “I know.”

 

“And you hurt me.” Will continues, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t think you get how much you hurt me, Zach.”

 

“I know.” Zachary repeats, voice just a meek mumbling.

 

“No, you don’t.” Will pauses again, studying the guilt stricken expression on Zachary’s face, the way he looks down, chewing on his lip and fingers fumbling on the zipper of his own hoodie. Will doesn’t know if it’s an act, if Zachary is truly sorry, if he regrets cheating or just Will finding out. He doesn’t know what’s going on in Zachary’s head but he’s still sure that Zachary doesn’t understand. Maybe this feeling is one of those things that you only truly understand when you experienced it yourself. Will wouldn’t even know how to describe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeey some cmmunication is happening. good or bad? whatever :D  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please take the time to comment if you did. I need all the motivation i can get <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah. long time no see. here's chapter 8  
> hope you like it

“You good?” Zachary asks, playing with the tag on his suitcase. Will is still waiting for his, but the luggage belt is getting emptier with every minute so it shouldn’t take too long now. Baggage claim has always been Zachary’s least favorite thing about flying. Especially when he’s tired as hell after a 5 hours flight across the US.

 

Will nods after a moment, shooting Zachary a weary smile.

 

“Yeah I’m good.” He says and Zachary is inclined to believe him. Things had been hard lately, and Will’s break down, whispering that he just wants it all to stop is still very present in Zachary’s mind, just like the exhaustion in Will’s eyes is now. Losing against TSM on the big stage, after everything with Jack, and Hai, hasn't made anything better. Hence Zachary has never been so happy about getting a break, getting out of that gaming house and just be normal guys for once and for Will to be able to recharge his energy a bit. And them getting a chance to learn to be together again after Zachary’s fuck up without being tangled up in the cluster fuck of their usual life. Zachary hopes, in a not at all selfless way, that this little time out, this vacation where they can just concentrate on each other, away from all the stress and pressure, will help them with that.

 

“I’m- I look forward to seeing mom and Michael again.” Will continues, while grabbing for his suitcase that is finally coming up, “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen them.”

 

“Aww.” Zachary grins, poking Will in the side, “Little Will misses his mommy.”

 

It’s easy to make fun like this, especially since Will knows he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. Will loves his mom and she loves him and Zachary has always been a little jealous of that, especially since this type of emotion -showing each other affection- seems so normal for Will’s family. Zachary still remembers meeting Will’s mom and brother at the last summer split finals. He had been a little bit overwhelmed by the warmth and openness Mrs Hartman had not only displayed towards her sons but also Zachary. He remembers thinking that it showed, the close bond between those three that must have formed in the tough times after Will’s dad had left. Will has made some vague comments about it every now and then, mostly while being drunk. Money being tight, him feeling guilty about his growth spurts because they couldn’t afford to get new clothes all the time. Also them almost having to move out of the house.

 

“Shut the fuck up.” Will laughs, “Yes I fucking do. Got a problem with that?”

 

“No, sir.” Zachary says, managing not to trip over the conveniently placed toddler backpack in his way. “Same, to be honest.”

 

Will scoffs, “Same? Dude, same doesn’t make any fucking sense here.”

 

“Sure it does.” Zachary smirks at Will, “I miss your mom too. She’s fucking hot.” He lets out a high pitched fake moan that has a couple of people shoot weird glances in their direction, but Zachary doesn’t care because Will throws his head back with laughter and that’s more than worth it.

 

“Oh my god.” Will shakes his head, giving Zachary’s shoulder a slight shove, “You are _so_ disrespectful. I can’t fucking believe it.”

 

“Not my fault that your mom’s a milf.” Zachary says and he can barely keep himself from giggling.

 

Will rolls his eyes but grabs Zachary by the sleeve, pulling him behind one of the big pillars lining the hall. It’s no private by any means, but it gives the illusion of it as much as possible in a crowded airport arrival hall.

 

“Do you have to be so aggressively heterosexual?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

Zachary bites his lip, smirking, “Yes I do.”

 

Then Will kisses him, soft and tenderly, nothing more than a gentle peck on the lips and it’s already more than what they usually do in public, but Will knows him too well, recognizes the nervousness in his voice and the tension in his shoulders and even though kissing in public should do the complete opposite from calming Zachary it doesn’t. It’s a reassurance that Zachary didn’t even have to ask for. Sure he met Will’s family before, but that was just as Zachary, just as Will’s friend. This is different. This is him being a boyfriend and Will’s mom meeting him as such. And she’ll be warm and lovely and supportive and Zachary will not know how to handle that. And he’ll feel guilty. So incredibly guilty because she doesn’t know what Zachary did, how much he hurt her son, her son who is smiling softly at Zachary now, nudging him with his elbow, but still giving Zachary the time he needs and Zachary doesn’t get it.

 

He doesn’t get how Will’s mind works, how he’s able to be so sweet and nice to Zachary even though Zachary fucked up so badly. It doesn’t make sense, but Zachary sure as hell isn’t going to point that out. The few hours after the initial confession where he had been so sure they were over had been hell, more than he ever thought they would be. Losing Will for real, he wouldn’t know how to handle that.

 

“C’mon.” Will says, taking a look at his phone screen. “She texted. Our ride is here.”

 

Will cranes his neck, trying to overlook the crowd, even getting on his tiptoes as he tries to spot his mom while Zachary patiently waits next to him, having an eye on both their suitcases.

 

“Do you see her?” Will asks and Zachary barely refrains from rolling his eyes because if Will, tall as he is, can’t spot her, how the hell is Zachary supposed to accomplish that. Before Zachary can come up with some snarky remark a wide grin already spreads across Will’s face. “There she is.” He exclaims and sure enough, after a few moments of navigating through the mass of people Zachary can see them too.

 

Will’s mom is a pretty woman, Zachary wasn’t kidding about that. She is skinny and tall, taller than Zachary but shorter than her sons. Her hair has the same color Will’s has when it’s not bleached. It’s a little bit messy, but frames her smiling face perfectly. The twist around her mouth is just as familiar as the moles on her neck.

 

“Will!” she shrieks as soon as she spots them and Will barely manages to drop his suitcase so he can open his arms for her probably bone crushing hug.

 

“Hey mom.” Will greets her, but she’s already moved on to Zachary, beaming at him with undisguised joy twinkling in her eyes.

 

“And Zachary. It’s so nice to see you boys.” She exclaims and before Zachary can come up with a greeting in return her arms wrap around him suddenly. All Zachary can do is stare at Will, his mouth forming the shape of a surprised ‘O’.

 

Will just smiles.

 

She hugs exactly like Will, stooping over slightly and fully encompassing him in a way that makes warm spread from the bottom of his stomach through his whole body. She brings one hand up between his shoulder blades and that too is so familiar it instantly puts Zachary at ease. He’s not one for hugging stranger and essentially that’s what this woman is even though he met her before, but hugging her is fine, more even, it feels good and he can feel a bit of the nervousness seeping out him.

 

Zachary tries to remember the last time his mom ever hugged him like this and he isn’t sure she ever has.

 

“Hello Mrs Hartmann.” Zachary says, immediately fumbling with his fringe when she eventually takes a step back to look at them both fondness vibrant in her gaze.

 

She flicks her tongue. “Call me Jackie.” She says and from the corner of his eye Zachary can see both Will and Michael rolling their eyes.

 

“Hi,” Zachary awkwardly gives Michael a little wave, because he’s not sure what the protocol is for greeting the little brother of your boyfriend who you already met, but just as a dude said brother knows, not as a boyfriend. For a second he thinks Michael will go for a hug too, but thankfully he doesn’t, just grins and waves back.

 

“Mikey, would you take Zachary’s suitcase please?” Will’s mom says as she smiles at Zachary before wrapping her arm around Will’s waist and pressing a kiss onto Will’s cheek. “Let’s get you home.”

 

Michael groans and rolls his eyes as 16 years old boys do when their mother’s ask them to do something, but he still moves to take Zachary’s suitcase and Zachary is a bit too overwhelmed to argue that he doesn’t need anyone to carry his shit for him. He Anyway, he knows that Will’s mom just wants to be nice and Will has already shot him an apologetic smile so he decides that it’s okay, lets Michael take his suitcase and walks beside the Hartmann family out of the airport building to the parking garage.

 

It’s a bit weird to not be the one walking closest to Will and that thought is even weirder in a way, but thankfully Zachary doesn’t have time to think too long about it. Soon they stop in front of a car that apparently belongs to Will’s family.

 

“Bro?” Michael suddenly says, just as Will finishes hurling Zachary’s suitcase into the trunk. The look on Michael’s face strikes Zachary as a little bit off, but to be fair, he doesn’t really know the guy.

 

“Yeah?” Will, ruffles his hair, turning to face his little brother.

 

“Look…” Michael awkwardly looks down, kicking some dirt away, “Here’s the thing- There’s something you should kn-“

 

“Michael.” Will’s mom chirps in giving her son a pointed look but Michael ignores her.

 

“When we get home -“

 

“Mikey!” before Michael can say another words, his mother interrupts him again. She is still smiling but her smile is somewhat strange now and Zachary can tell that Will notices it too by the way his brows slightly draw together. “Sweetie, why don’t you…drive us home? Huh?” she puts the car keys into Michael’s hands. “What do you think? You want to drive, don’t you?”

 

“Holy shit, can I?” Michael gapes at his mother, than he closes his fist around the keys. “Fuck yes.”

 

“He can drive?” Will looks back and forth between his mother and brother. “Aren’t you like 12, Michael? I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

 

Michael just flips him off, basically throwing himself in the driver’s seat. Whatever he meant to say apparently unimportant in the light of a chance to get some driving practice. Will’s mom chuckles, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s got his learner license last month.”

 

Will pulls a face and his mom bats her hand. “Don’t look at me like that. I taught you how to drive in that car, Michael will learn just as fast, I’m sure.”

 

Will turns to Zachary and fake whispers, “She’s a horrible teacher. Run while you can.”

 

It earns him a headshake from his mom, “Be nice.” she says before moving to the passenger side of the car. “I suppose you two are okay with sharing the backseat?” she winks, a cheeky smile on her lips.

 

If it was anyone else Zachary would probably make some insinuating remark in response to play it off as a joke and make the whole thing feel less uncomfortable, but right now he doesn’t quite manage to. It’s a little too weird and new for him having Will’s mother, an outsider, someone who is not part of their daily circle of acquaintances, know and joke about them. He’s not sure if her being so easy-going helps his nervousness or exacerbates it. There’s a part of him that’s almost convinced that _this_ is not how it’s supposed to be, that things shouldn't be so easy, but Zachary prefers not to think about that too much.

 

As it turns out, Michael’s driving isn’t bad. It’s not good either, but he seems to be getting the hang of it if you are willing to believe Jackie’s encouraging comments and Will refraining from complaining about it. In fact Will doesn’t really say much during the whole ride, just answers his mom and shoots Zachary a soft smile now and then. He just looks relaxed and calm and when he leans back against the seat, his eyes closed and the sun shining through the car window, Zachary has to concentrate on not staring. He’s not really sleeping, Zachary knows that, Will wouldn’t be so stupid as to fuck his sleep rhythm up like that, and yet Zachary finds himself dreaming of them crawling into bed the second they get to Will’s house. He’s so tired and even though he tries to stifle his yawns, but now and then they come through and he already caught a sympathetic glance from Will’s mom.

 

Usually flights and jet lack don’t tire Zachary out this bad, but he his racing mind hadn’t granted him much sleep in the last night and since Zachary can’t sleep on planes, he is pretty much running on empty right now. He is half inclined to just lay down right here right now, bedding his head in Will’s lap so he could fall asleep to Will carding his fingers through his hair. But that sure as hell isn’t an option. He wouldn’t even do that with the team around. In front of Will's family, this level of affection display has Zachary’s stomach churn. Even the idea of resting his hand on Will’s thigh like he usually would feels like too much.

 

“You nervous?” Will whispers quietly, snapping Zachary back to reality. He hasn’t even realized that he had spaced out. Will has leaned in so only Zachary is able to hear his words and Zachary appreciates that. Regardless of his answer, the fact alone that Will is insinuating that Zachary might be nervous is something that Zachary would prefer Will’s family to not listen in on. It would be embarrassing, and Zachary really doesn’t want to make a fool of himself barely half an hour into his first real meeting with his boyfriend’s family.

 

“Of course not.” Zachary claims, his gaze flickering towards the rearview mirror before he shifts to get a bit more distance between the two of them. He catches the split second flash of hurt that flares up in Will’s eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it has appeared and Zachary just hopes that Will understands. He probably wouldn’t be very comfortable with closeness in front of Zachary’s family either. So it’s fine. It has to be.  “I met your mom before. It’s chill. I’m chill. Okay? “

 

“Okay.” Will shrugs, turning back to gazing out of the window. Zachary isn’t sure if he’s supposed to say something, tell Will that he _is_ in fact nervous. And he would, if he didn’t fear that saying it out loud will only make it worse. Will would understand, of course. But then again, it’s not a bad lie, and not wanting Will to whisper in his ear in front of his mom isn’t a crime either. He still feels a tiny bit guilty though and that, that is new, or at least Zachary has never really noticed before. Now there is this ugly, twisting feeling of guilt stirring in his stomach whenever he’s not completely honest with Will.

 

It doesn’t take more than half an hour, maybe 40 minutes, until they take a left turn into the street Will grew up in.

 

Will’s mom has spent the whole ride not only giving Michael more or less useful driving tips, but also chatting away happily, regardless of whether Zachary or Will have responded or not. She tells them how sorry she is about them losing the finals, how she wishes she could have been there and how proud she is of them anyway. She tells them about how she wants to apply to become staff nurse in a couple of months when the old one retires and how she has decided to learn knitting but hasn’t gotten around to it yet, because things had been so busy, but she will and then she’s going to knit them socks.

 

Will hadn’t told her that they hardly need wool socks in California and Zachary hadn’t either. He’d raised his eyebrows at Will, who just shrugged.

 

“Home sweet home.” Will’s mother says when Michael has finally managed to pull into the driveway without standing on the grass with at least one wheel, “Mikey and I will get your bags inside.”

 

She smiles at Will and reaches out to brush her hand over his cheek. Her voice is incredibly soft and loving when she speaks, “It’s so nice to have you home.”

 

Zachary feels like an intruder, watching so he turns away, busying himself with trying to unfasten his seatbelt. Maybe trying is an overstatement. Maybe he is just pretending to take this long so he can postpone getting out of the car for just a little while longer. Eventually he does though, when Michael and Will’s mom are already at the front door with the suitcases. Will is patiently waiting for him, leaning against the trunk of the car with his hands in his pockets.

 

“So…” Zachary says shifting from one foot to the other as he stands next to the car making no move to go inside yet.

 

“So?” Will echoes.

 

“I am.” Zachary admits after a moment of silence, glancing at the front door where Will’s mother is fumbling with the keys. He exhales slowly, “Nervous I mean. Kinda. You know?”

 

“Me too.” Will replies after only a few moments, smiling sheepishly, “Kinda.”

 

For some reason that makes Zachary feel miles better. He snorts, shaking his head, but his lips are curling into a small smile. Will doesn’t seem nervous, not right now, he just seems happy to be home and he looks at Zachary without any hidden sadness or uncertainty in his gaze and that is worth so much, it feels so good. Zachary takes a step closer to Will, allowing him, to hook his fingers into his belt loops so Will can pull him closer by them until there are only inches left between them. It feels cheeky and daring but Zachary convinces himself to just take the plunge so he leans in giving Will the hint of a kiss, their lips just barely brushing together, even though Will’s family is right there, just a  few meters and a wall away.

 

“And you know…thank you.” Zachary mumbles, resisting the urge to bring up his hand between them to adjust his fringe, “For having me here. You could have- I would have understood if you hadn’t wanted me to come… so…thank you.”

 

Saying this makes him feel a little better and what feels even better is Will just nodding, smiling and pressing a kiss onto Zachary’s lips in response, no words, no explanation. For this moment it’s more than enough. It doesn’t matter that Zachary doesn’t understand why Will doesn’t hate his guts, what he sees in Zachary to be so hell-bent on keeping this relationship alive. It doesn’t make sense and deep down Zachary knows that he doesn’t deserve Will’s kindness and forgiveness, but he’s selfish. He wants, he wants to be wanted and Will is giving that to him. He kisses him in front of his childhood home with his mom and brother being so close and he kisses Zachary despite knowing that Zachary betrayed him. Will still loves him and he makes Zachary feel loved. It makes him forget feeling empty.

 

Will pulls him closer with his arms around his waist while Zachary’s own hand slips into the curls at the back of Will’s head and Will gets the hint, because he immediately deepens the kiss. It’s still slow and gentle but less hesitant.

 

Will smiles into the kiss and the smile is still there when Zachary pulls back after a few long moments. Will’s eyes are closed and just for a moment Zachary’s gaze flickers away from Will and to the house.

 

There is someone at the kitchen window. Watching them. And it’s not Will’s mom. And not Michael. It’s a stranger. Zachary doesn’t know him. He’s there just for an instant, staring at Zachary with unwavering eyes. It takes a moment for Zachary to remember how to breathe. His eyes snap back to Will as he tries his hardest to not freak out.

 

“You didn’t tell me your mom has a boyfriend.” He chuckles awkwardly, because that’s probably who that was. It’s okay. It’s not the end of the world, someone seeing them. Sure it makes Zachary feel immensely uncomfortable, knowing someone watched him kiss Will, but as long as it’s not _the public_ it shouldn’t- it doesn’t matter.

 

“What?” Will frowns at him, “She doesn’t.”

 

“Yeah but-“ Zachary takes a hesitant step back, gesturing towards the house.

 

Will turns around and even though Zachary can’t see his face anymore he knows something is off as soon as Will lets his hands drop, breaking all contact with Zachary. He just stares for a second, then he’s moving, taking long, quick strides towards the house, having Zachary hurry after him.

 

They walk through the front door just as Will’s mom comes back downstairs. She smiles at them, but there is a restlessness in her eyes flickering back and forth between Will and the stranger who is now leaning against the sideboard in the hallway. Will just stares at him, his face completely blank and unreadable. And he’s pale. Unbelievably pale.

 

The stranger is a man, probably in his late forties, early fifties. He’s as tall as Will, but a lot more muscular. The hair is short and mostly grey but his stubble is almost black. His eyes remind Zachary of Will’s and yet there is something intensely different in them that Zachary can’t quite put his finger on.

 

Then he speaks and things start to slot into a place a bit more.

 

“Welcome home, son.”  The man says, the corner of his mouth curling slightly upwards.

 

This isn’t Will’s mom’s boyfriend. This is Will’s dad. Zachary gapes a little, half ready to interrogate Will about why he didn’t tell him that his parents are back together, but the question gets stuck in his throat. Judging from the look on Will’s face Will didn’t know either. The nervous expression his mom is wearing fits as well.

 

Will didn’t know his father would be there.

 

Ok. Awkward.

 

Zachary clears his throat unable to take the silence any longer taking a step forward. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

 

Will’s father turns to look at Zachary. He smiles. “Zachary, right? A friend of Will’s?”

 

“Yeah,” Zachary can feel himself blushing, but he still decides to be brave holding out his hand for a proper greeting. Even if neither him nor Will has expected an additional family member to be here, he’s still Will’s father and it’s important to make a good impression.

 

“I’m Frank,” Will’s father says reaching out to shake Zachary’s hand but before he can Will slaps his hand away, pulling Zachary back by his shoulder. His eyes however are still focused on nothing but his father.

 

“What are you doing here?” Will says his voice sounding toneless and cold at the same time, “Mom, what is he doing here?”

 

“Well, honey,” his mom smiles weakly, fumbling with her fingers, “You see, I- Me and your dad…” Zachary only now spots the golden wedding ring on her finger she’s been turning and rubbing. “Why don’t you go upstairs and we talk later? I prepared your old room for you.”

 

The tension in the air is almost tangible and Zachary wishes Will would give him something, a glance, a smile, just something so he knows how to act but Will is giving him absolutely nothing, isn’t even looking at him. The following silence is so deafening even breathing feels like too much.

 

“Where is Zachary going to sleep?” Will’s father asks and Zachary can’t help but notice the twitch in Will’s hand when his father says Zachary’s name. And fuck, Zachary had a vague idea of Will and his dad not getting along that well, but this, this is more than just not getting along. This feels like hatred. Like so many unspoken words hanging in the air between them that Zachary can almost touch them. Zachary just doesn’t get why. He faintly remembers Will mentioning something about his dad not being cool with him being gay so maybe that’s it? Or maybe it’s like with Zachary’s parents, that he doesn’t like the whole professional gaming career idea? Or maybe Will just didn’t want Zachary to meet his dad because he knew his dad wouldn’t like his son being with someone like Zachary?

 

Zachary looks at Will helplessly, but Will still doesn’t spare him a glance.

 

“Frank.” Will’s mom says, stepping next to her husband so she can gently touch his shoulder, making him avert his eyes from Will and instead gaze at her. He immediately wraps an arm around her smiling at her in a way that could be described as apologetically.

 

“Yes, Jackie?”

 

“Would you please get me some potatoes and onions out of the basement?” she says sweetly, “I would like to start cooking as soon as possible. I bet my boys are hungry.”

 

Then they kiss.

 

Maybe that’s where Will got his tendency for public displays of affection from because apparently his parents have no problem kissing in front of their son and his boyfriend and Zachary would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel at least a little bit awkward. Thankfully they don’t stick around for whatever happens next because suddenly Will grabs Zachary by the wrist, pulling him with him as he quickly makes his exit over the stairs that leads them to Will’s room.

 

***

 

Walking up the stairs, closing the door, letting go of Zachary’s wrist happens like in trance, almost like Will is watching someone else doing it from behind cracked glass. It feels so surreal, walking back into this house, feeling like everything is good and then suddenly, within the fraction of a second, it shatters and nothing is okay. Suddenly _he_ is there and the air feels too thick to breathe. There are no thoughts racing in Will’s head, no questions on loop and no confusion. He just feels empty, his mind blank when he looks at his father, seeing him outside of his nightmares for the first time in almost seven years.

 

Now, in the silence of his room, the thoughts are coming, so many questions and feelings and all Will can do is blankly stare, trying to focus on his own breathing. In and out. It’s easy. It’s easy, but it’s so hard too, because his dad is back. His dad is in this house and it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make any fucking sense.

 

And to think he’d been so happy to be home again mere minutes ago. Seeing his mom, having her hug him and smile and ask him about his flight, rambling on about everything and nothing, it had felt so good. As if all the tension and unease from the past weeks had slowly been wearing off, more and more with each moment until he had felt a little more like himself again. He had smiled at Zachary and Zachary had smiled back and it hadn’t hurt. Because in that moment they hadn’t been Sneaky and Meteos and they hadn’t been this fucked up couple with cheating and lies and secrets. Just two kids going home.

 

But that isn’t how it works, apparently. You don’t get to start new, don’t get to forget the past and move on. Will’s past is just a flight of stairs away, kissing his mother and acting like everything is the way it’s supposed to be.

 

It’s not and Will feels like crying. Zachary is looking at him with confusion in his eyes, awkwardly standing next to Will’s bed and looking more than just a little out of place. This is not how Will has imagined this and that hurts because only moments ago he’s watched Zachary eye the house through the car window with an underlying mix of excitement and nervousness and that had made Will so happy. Because _that_ is how he’s imagined things to be ever since his mom first asked him to bring Zachary along during break. Before all that shit happened.

 

“What was that?” Zachary asks and judging from his tone it isn’t a first, but probably a repetition and Will has missed the previous questions. “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing.” Will replies, too quickly, too sharp.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Zachary bites back, but the tremor in his voice betrays him. It’s not harmful sarcasm, it’s insecurity and Will can’t blame him, because how is Zachary supposed to understand when he knows nothing.

 

He knows nothing because Will has never told him. There has never been any reason to. The past was the past and it had all been said and done long before Will and Zachary had met anyway. There’s a part of Will, now stronger and louder than ever, that still harbors this irrational shame about what has happened to him, what his father has done. He is damaged. And that makes him scared. Because nobody wants damaged goods. Least of all Zachary. Zachary wants easy and uncomplicated. Damaged isn’t uncomplicated.

 

“Is…is it me?” Zachary asks after a moment, “Is it weird because of me? You didn’t want me to meet your dad, I get it, but- Do you regret bringing me along? Because that- that was your choice. You and I-“

 

“God, Zach!” Will snaps, he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to feel. He can’t focus on comforting Zachary right now. And what is he supposed to say anyway? He didn’t want Zachary and his father to meet. Never, not in a hundred lifetimes he would have wanted that, but saying that would send Zachary the wrong message and Will can’t explain. Not without telling a truth that was never meant to leave this house in the first place. “Not everything is about you. Just-“

 

“Fuck you I just-“ Zachary stares at him helplessly in a _what do you want me to say way_ and of course Will knows that he is being unfair, snapping at Zachary like this, when it’s just Zachary’s insecurities talking, but he just doesn’t know how to be considerate right now.

 

“…my dad…” Will falters, takes in a shaky breath, carding his fingers through his hair before sitting down on his bed, suddenly unsure if his legs will hold him any longer. “…he’s not supposed to be here. I didn’t know-“

 

It’s nothing but a half-assed attempt of something that’s not even close to an explanation, but it’s the most Will can offer right now, hoping in vain that it will be enough for Zachary, to not draw conclusions of any kind, wrong or right.

 

“Okay. I get it. You don’t like surprises, but… he seemed nice though?” Zachary says after a moment of apparent consideration, “I mean, him and your mom- They sure as hell looked more in love with each other than my parents ever did, just now. So-“

 

“He’s not.” Will cuts Zachary off, “He’s not nice.” He can’t bear the thought of Zachary liking his father. It’s too bizarre, too wrong. And it would feel like betrayal, because by not telling Zachary the whole truth Will would be allowing this. He’d let Zachary be charmed by his father when Zachary, if he knew what this man did, what happened in this very room he’s standing in right now, probably wouldn’t want to be within 10 miles of him.

 

“I know you said that he’s…” Zachary hesitates, before sitting down on the bed too, leaning against the headboard with his back and tugging up his legs. Will hadn’t noticed when he had taken off his shoes, “…that he’s not that supportive of you being gay. And like thinks it’s a phase or something, but-“

 

“He doesn’t think shit.” Will mumbles offhandedly as he buries his face in his hands.

 

“What?”

 

Will swallows, his throat suddenly even drier than before. Right, he lied about that. Had made some shit up, when Zachary had asked once about how Will’s family reacted to him coming out. And it wouldn’t have mattered, lie or truth, Zachary should have never met Will’s dad and thus never actually confronted with how accepting or well, not accepting the man really was.

 

“I lied.” Will says, because even though he can’t tell Zachary the whole truth he can at least try to be as honest as possible. “I made it up. I don’t know what my dad thinks about us.” It’s not a lie. Will may know what his dad thinks about him being gay, but he doesn’t know what he thinks about Will being with Zachary. He can guess, but it is still, technically, not a lie. “I haven’t talked to him in years.”

 

“What the fuck. Why would you lie to me?” Zachary gapes at Will. He looks upset and shocked. Like the idea of Will not being completely honest with him is nothing that ever occurred to him. Breaking someone’s trust but trusting them at the same time seems like an odd combination to Will. The irony seems lost to Zachary, though. “Why would you make up shit like that? Some tragic family issues? Why? For pity or-“

 

“Screw you, Zach. Seriously, go to hell.” Will spits and he’s not heard his own voice so cold for ages. Zachary’s words hurt. Family issues. Pity. And he doesn’t even know. Would he even believe Will if he told him about how his father used to come into this room at night and rape him until he finally got put to jail when Will was 15? Or would he think Will made that up too? To get attention. Sympathy. Whatever. As if that particular part of his past has ever gotten him anything but pain and shame and fear. “Why would I make this shit up? Because uncomfortable family stuff is an easy way to get you to stop asking questions. Not that you do that much anyway. But hey forgive me for actually having shit I don’t want to discuss with the guy who can’t even tell me he loves me after a whole fucking year.”

 

Zachary seems speechless for a few long seconds then he throws a pillow at Will. It misses him by a long shot but Will still flinches and the simple truth of that has him blush with angry shame. Zachary stares at him with wide eyes, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Fuck you.” He hisses. “Fuck. You.”

 

“Yeah.” Will says drily. He can’t afford letting his face or voice betray any emotion or he might start to cry, “Fuck me, Zachary.”

 

 “You want me to say that I love you?” Zachary spits, voice straining with the effort to keep it low volume. Zachary is angry and hurt and usually that has him yelling, but there is some hesitation in his eyes that tell Will that they aren’t quite there yet, not with Will’s family only walls away. Zachary doesn’t know that screaming has never meant much in this house. “Fine.” Zachary continues, “Fine. I’ll say it. I’ll say it right fucking now. I lo-“

 

 “Stop!” Will finds himself hissing and before he can stop himself he has a hand pressed over Zachary’s mouth. He lets it drop like he’s been burned the same moment. “Not like this.” He whispers, shaking his head. Not like this. He wants Zachary to say that he loves him, of course he does, but not spoken in anger, not in the middle of a fight that escalated from what was just Will being freaked out, nothing to do with them. This is not how he wants it and he feels so incredibly selfish for that thought. As if wanting Zachary to love him wasn’t greedy enough already.

 

“Not like this?” Zachary scoffs and suddenly he is no longer leaning against the headboard, but leaned forward, his hands on Will’s knees, “What do you want from me? Some big ass confession with roses and candles or what? What are we, girls?”

 

It’s so typical, for Zachary to turn this into a joke, a humorless and ill-timed one, but a joke nonetheless. Will is gay, yes, but that doesn’t mean he wants flowers and shit. Not that there is anything wrong with that or girls, but Zachary’s words still burn.

 

“I want you to fucking mean it.” Will bites back. _I want you to say it because you_ want _to say it. Not because I want you to._ But who is he to make demands like that?

 

“Well what if I do?” Zachary snaps, but there’s a flash of surprise in his eyes that tell Will that this isn’t something Zachary planned on saying. He continues speaking nonetheless, his jaw set tight in defiant determination, “What if I say it now and I do mean it? What then?”

 

He says it like a threat and Will finds himself torn between taking what little Zachary is offering or screaming for more, for something real and honest because right now he can’t tell what is and what is not. His head is a mess and he can’t focus on anything, there is Zachary right in front of him, venom on his lips, looking like he’s ready to fight or to kiss and then there’s his father, downstairs, back to haunt Will, to ruin what was supposed to be a recreative time out for them to find their rhythm again before it even really started.

 

“Then say it.” Will says, his tone somewhere between daring and meek. His eyes flicker down to Zachary’s lips and he thinks about biting them, about kissing him with as much fervor and desperation as he can feel burning underneath his skin right now, but he doesn’t quite dare. Alongside all those other conflicting emotions there is this underlying fear that has taken root in the pit of his stomach the second he had seen his father again. It has claws and sharp teeth and it’s been so long since Will has been confronted with that and never had it too fight with his desire, with his want for another person. “Then say it.” Will repeats, “Say that you love me.”

 

Zachary opens his mouth and for a split second Will actually thinks he’s going to say it. Then a sudden knock on the door disrupts the silence between them and Zachary’s mouth snaps shut.

 

Seconds later the door is opened and Will’s mom pokes her head inside. She smiles at them as she slips into the room and shuts the door behind herself.

 

Will clears his throat, “Mom.”

 

“Hey boys.” She says, tugging a lose strand of hair behind her ear, “All settled in?” She bends down to pick up the pillow Zachary had thrown at Will earlier and carefully places it on Will’s bed again, before sitting down  as well.

 

It feels more than a little awkward to sit on his old childhood bed with his boyfriend, who he just kind of fought with and his mother who is wearing a fake smile in an attempt to hide the guilt in her eyes.

 

“Yes.” Will says even though it’s a very obvious lie. Their suitcases have been carelessly thrown into a corner and so far only Zachary has taken his shoes off. They are very much not settled in but he knows that she doesn’t care about the answer to her question anyway. It was a conversation opener if anything. Her attempt at trying to ease into a topic Will hoped he’d never have to talk about with her again. His father.

 

“Will, honey…” she puts a hand on his knee and he has to try his hardest not to immediately push it away. “I know, I should have told you that he… that your dad would be here, but-”she smiles apologetically, “I didn’t want you to cancel. You have to understand that.”

 

Will isn’t sure how he feels about that; His mother knew that he would have canceled if he had known his father would be here, but instead of drawing the rational conclusion of not having her husband, her son’s abuser, back in her house, she has decided to just not tell Will the truth. Sure, it’s not a lie, Will has never asked after all, but it sure as hell feels like betrayal.

 

She has betrayed him once again.

 

It’s not the same, of course it’s not, but somehow the feeling spreading its ugly wings in Will’s chest is still so familiar. It’s like he is thirteen again, crying in his mother’s arms after he had finally mustered up the courage to tell her about what his father was doing to him. He had been so sure, so unbelievably sure in his childish naivety, that she’d make it stop. She’d help him. Moms are supposed to do that.

 

But she hadn’t. _Don’t talk_ she had said, had told him to not ever talk about this again. Not to anyone. She had told Will it would be alright, that daddy didn’t mean it. _He loves us_ , she had said and Will remembers thinking that if this was love he did not want to be loved. Not ever again.

 

And now she has let him back into the house, after everything he has done, after all this time. And she hasn’t even told Will. She has just let him come, walking into a trap like a fool.

 

“Screw you.” Will says, “The both of you.”

 

He exhales deeply glancing at his mother and her pleading eyes, then at Zachary who looks back at Will. He doesn’t understand any of this and Will can’t really imagine how this conversation must seem to him. Probably like a massive overreaction from Will’s side. And even though Will knows that he has every right to be angry at his mom and scared of his dad, he still feels a little ashamed of it. Especially since Zachary is here to witness his unraveling.

 

“He knew Zachary’s name.” Will says quietly after a while. “Mom, how did he know? And does he know... does he know that Zach is my boyfriend? Not just a friend?”

 

“Of course he knows. I told him. He…” she glances at Zachary for a split second, then her eyes are back on Will, her smile a little shaky, “He’s your dad. It’s normal for him to want to know what is going on in your life. And this-”she gestures between the two of them, “-this is great. You two having each other. It’s something good, something happy.”

 

Something happy. Why she would use that to justify having told her son’s rapist about him having a boyfriend is beyond Will. Maybe some fucked up idea of sharing good things with him since he had been in a bad place. It doesn’t matter because just the simple fact of his father having more than just a tiny piece of information about him makes Will feel sick, “You’ve been in contact with him? All this time? All this time you’ve been… talking to him. About me. And-” Will almost laughs but it comes out as a choked off sob, “And it never fucking occurred to you why I might not want that?” It’s more than just bizarre. It’s screwed up beyond compare.

 

“He’s your father.” Will’s mother repeats and the way she’s stroking his knee makes Will feel even more nauseous, “I know things haven’t been easy, but... that’s family, sweetie. It’s complicated sometimes. Please, just give him a chance. I promise he has changed.”

 

“How can you be sure?” Will shakes his head, “Because he told you? Mom, that’s bullshit. What- what about Michael? I know, I’ll be gone in a couple of weeks again, but what about Michael? What if dad-“

 

Will has to cut himself off, he can’t keep giving too much away like this, not with Zachary here. What he has already said is enough for his mom to understand what he means, what he fears and she gives him a smile that is probably meant to be reassuring, but reminds him too much of the past to have the intended effect.

 

“He has changed.” His mother repeats, “And Michael- He’s living at your Aunt Tara’s place for the time being. He’s just here now, because he wanted to see his brother.”

 

“I can’t believe you would do this.” Will says and it doesn’t sound nearly as bitter as the words taste. He doesn’t add _to me_ even though a part of him wants to. If she wants that man, her husband, who beat her and her sons for years, that’s fine. It’s her choice and there’s nothing he can do about her living out her self-destructive tendencies like this. It’s not his fight. It’s been a long time since he has chosen to see it that way and it hasn’t always been easy, but at the end of the day she had been the adult and he the child. She had failed to protect her son, or rather, she had chosen her husband over him. Over Will. And he simply doesn’t have the strength to take responsibility for her like she should have for him.

 

Will is looking at her now and her eyes hold the same pleading vulnerability as they did years ago, every time Will had begged her to go to the police, to leave his father and just run, make it end. But she had always just told him to not talk about it. Told him he had to understand.

 

And he had. His mother had been scared, still is apparently. Scared of being alone, scared of no one ever loving her the way his dad had. That it’s not love at all that Will’s father feels for his family is not something she understands and Will has never managed to convince her. He used to hate her for it. Her and her inability to be the mother Will wanted her to be.

 

“I’m doing this for you.” She says with an expression of determined hopefulness on her face. The tremor in her voice betrays her though, and for a moment Will wonders if she’s trying to convince him or herself. “Family is important, Will. Your father is important. He’ll always be part of your life.”

 

“Yeah.” Will shakes his head. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

 

She doesn’t mean it like this, but she’s right. He will always be part of Will’s life in one way or another. What he did to him, it will always stay with Will and he hates that, but there’s nothing he can do about it, just like he cannot begin to fathom in what way it has and will influence him or how he would have turned out without this particular detail of his past. Like she has said, he will always be part of Will’s life.

 

“Will-“ she begins again, but Will stands up abruptly. He can’t stand looking at her and her sad eyes any longer. It brings up to many memories.

 

“Zach, you want to go for a walk?” Will asks, purposefully looking past his mom.

 

Zachary stares at him for a split second obviously unprepared for being addressed in this conversation and if Will had any emotional capacity available right now he’d feel bad for Zachary, having to witness such a fucked up talk without having remotely enough information to get even half of it. Confusion and mild uneasiness are mirrored in his eyes as he quietly climbs of the bed, fishing his shoes out of the corner he tossed them in and Will can vividly imagine the gears turning in Zachary’s head right now. Even though he is fairly sure Zachary will not be able to connect the dots with just these pieces of information, even the fact that Zachary is mulling over all this in his head, especially after Will has so casually admitted to lying about his father, is enough to have Will’s chest feel uncomfortably tight and his fingers cold as ice.

 

He ignores his mother’s weak attempt at calling after him and just takes Zachary’s hand, pulling him along, out of his room, out of the house. Zachary doesn’t say a word until they are way down the street. It should be a little concerning, because usually Will would have expected at least a ‘what the fuck’ the moment they were out of the door, but he’s thankful for the little extra time to think. Not that his brain is coming up with much. He doesn’t realize, that in addition to Zachary not having said anything, he also hasn’t taken his hand out of Will’s yet.

 

“What’s up with that?” Zachary asks eventually, gesturing to the space around them, nodding his head in the direction they came from, “We are gamers. We don’t go outside, dude. We don’t go for spontaneous walks.”

 

It’s a sweet attempt at lightening the mood and Will can appreciate that. He knows it is probably more rooted in Zachary’s lack of understanding and unwillingness to further explore uncomfortable situations than anything else, but it is nice to imagine he does it because he knows that if someone can make Will laugh when he’s in a mood like this, it’s him.

 

“Damn, you are right.” Will says with a small smile on his lips. It’s the most he can manage at the moment, “I fucked it up now didn’t I?”

 

“You sure did, buddy.” Zachary lets out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head “I don’t know about you but my vacation is ruined now. Ruined.”

 

It’s a joke. Zachary uses humor for everything, when he’s sad, embarrassed, uncomfortable. It’s just how he works and Will knows that and it only speaks for the emotional turmoil inside him that despite being aware of that fact he still feels his heart sinking at Zachary’s word. Because they might as well be the truth. Ruined. Ruining. It’s one of the first words that comes to mind when Will thinks about his father being back.  He has no idea how he’s supposed to go back there, how he’s supposed to walk back into that house with that man waiting inside, how he’s supposed to spent the whole break there. With him. And have Zachary witness it all.

 

Zachary clears his throat and only then Will remembers that he forgot to laugh or smile or react in any other way.

 

 “So… your dad… not a good topic?” Zachary says almost casually, but the way he glances up at Will through his eyelashes is testimony enough of Zachary knowing that this is not a casual topic. It’s not that it surprises Will that Zachary caught up on that, Zachary isn’t stupid after all, it’s more the fact that he actually addresses it. It’s not a joke or another evasion so Will decides as far as he can be honest he will be. Especially since Zachary’s reaction to Will’s earlier lie had been more intense than anticipated.

 

“No.” Will tries to shrug but even to him it feels like an act, too forced, too much pretend. If Zachary notices he doesn’t comment on it.

 

“Ok.” Zachary says, going for a smile that makes Will feel a little bit less cold inside. They are both quiet for a few long moments before Zachary speaks again and even though his tone is still mostly casual, Will can tell the words are carefully chosen. “So…like I get that you don’t like him. Apparently.” He pauses, looking back in the direction of the house. “So…sucks that he’s here I guess.”

 

It works, for some inexplicable reason it works, the way Zachary puts it, so simple and understated casualness of his words that is so typical for him actually draws an honest chuckle from Will. “Yeah. It sucks.” he agrees.

 

 “Look I don’t know the guy. Obviously.” Zachary hesitates for a moment, adjusting his fringe, “Because either you never told me anything about him or I forgot. And what you told me was a lie. But… he seemed-“

 

“I know how he seems.” Will cuts Zachary off before he can speak another word. He feels shame coiling in his stomach, about the lie, about not ever telling Zachary anything and at the same time the very idea of Zachary knowing anything close to the truth makes Will feel even more sick. It’s habit and choice alike that make Will bite his tongue. He’s so used to never talking about this that this conversation feels like a balance act, awfully close to the edge of a cliff. But it doesn’t matter how much he can’t or doesn’t want to tell Zachary the truth about why Will’s dad being here is such a problem for Will, because the fact remains that Will can’t let Zachary like the guy. He can’t let them get along. He doesn’t think he could bear that.

 

“I know how he can seem.” Will repeats slowly, licking his dry lips, “I know that he can be charming and nice and funny and- Point is he’s not, okay? He’s not a good person. And he sure as hell wasn’t a good father. Just trust me on this.”

 

He hopes, he prays that this is enough, that Zachary will take this and not ask any more questions, just act the way he usually does, avoid, evade. Zachary eyes him silently with his brows drawn together in confusion. The one time Will wants him to act like that he might not even do it. It’s like some sort of ill-timed prank.

 

“Look I’m not saying he is. But… I know a thing or two about having a shitty dad and-“

 

“Zach-“ Will cuts Zachary off quickly, before he can think about it and it makes his mouth taste sour. “Don’t.”

 

It’s so wrong, shutting Zachary down when all he’s trying is to comfort Will by sympathizing. And Will appreciates it, he really does because it’s rare enough for Zachary to be honest about the fact that his parents haven’t always treated him well. It’s not that they were physically abusive or something of that sort as far as Will can tell, but they hadn’t always been kind either. Cold is the word Zachary had used once to describe his relationship with his parents. That and that he’s never good enough for them. There are terms like _emotional neglect_ and _withholding of affection_ that  Will finds himself thinking about whenever Zachary mentions the way his family treats him, terms he remembers from the therapy sessions he’d been forced to take after the trial, after testifying against his dad in court. He remembers talking with his therapist about types of abuse. So Will knows, even if Zachary doesn’t, that Zachary’s parents really aren’t good parents, maybe even abusive, but he still finds it hard equating them with his own experience. It’s unfair and a ridiculous petty thing, but he more than doubts that whatever Zachary has to say about shitty fathers is going to amount to anything close to Will’s own demons.  And Will knows that right now he doesn’t have the words nor the will to really explain it. Maybe he never will.

 

Zachary doesn’t seem to notice Will’s objection.

 

“If he’s a dick, like you say then- then I get why you aren’t ecstatic about him being here and like… me meeting him…” Zachary looks down sheepishly and for a moment Will is confused more than anything else about why Zachary is counting himself in on the equation of things upsetting Will right now in connection to his dad, but then it clicks.

 

Zachary is referring to Will being upset about his father knowing about the two of them, Will’s mom having told her husband about Zachary being Will’s boyfriend. And yes, it’s part of the reason why Will’s chest feels so tight and breathing is hard and everything seems to have shifted in a direction Will hasn’t anticipated, but it’s not for the reason Zachary thinks. It’s not because Will is ashamed of Zachary or some bullshit like that.

 

Before Will can open his mouth to start a feeble attempt at explaining or at least telling Zachary that it’s not _like that_ , Zachary continues.

 

“It’s shit so.” Zachary shrugs, “I mean I wouldn’t fucking know how to deal with my parents- my dad knowing…”

 

Will really wishes Zachary would have just stopped. It’s unclear if Zachary honestly thought this would help or if he’s just talking without thinking altogether, but whatever it is, it doesn’t have the intended effect. “ ’s why I haven’t told them yet.” Zachary adds and Will feels bitterness rising up in his throat.

 

He may not be ashamed of Zachary, but Zachary sure is of Will.

 

“Oh, c’mon Zach.” Will crosses his arms, feeling a lump form in his throat “You haven’t told them because, why would you? This- _we_ are not serious to you, so- you not having told them is not because you think they might disapprove or be homophobic or whatever.”

 

“This is serious to me!” Zachary protests.

 

Will has no idea how to read the look on his face, “Spare me the bullshit.” He swallows around the sharp edges in his throat, forcing a sarcastic smile on his face, “You fucked somebody else how serious can it be?”

 

“You gonna keep holding that in my face, yeah?” Zachary presses his lips into a tight line.

 

There is something glistening in his eyes that tells Will that Zachary doesn’t want to fight, just like him, and yet Will fails to bite back the sharp words he can already taste on his tongue.

 

“Keep hold-“ he lets out a laugh, cold and fake, “Are you fucking kidding me? It hasn’t been a month, Zach! I have the damn right to hold this in your face!”

 

“I know!” Zachary yells and for a split second Will thinks Zachary might shove him, but he just throws his hands up in frustration, “I fucking know. But I thought we were trying! I though this break… I thought this would be good for us and we could get over it and-“ He stares at Will angry and desperate. Will wishes he could go back in time, just a few moments, not snap, not say those hurtful things and just swallow it down, not have this simple talk escalate like this when the core issue has nothing to do with it, but Will doesn’t know how to separate his emotions anymore, not right now and the result is him lashing out.

 

“And we haven’t been here for an hour and nothing I say or do is right for you.” Zachary continues, “You just blow up in my face and say cryptic shit and lie and I’m really sick of feeling like a shit boyfriend. I know I am, but you chose to keep me, so please stop acting like you are gonna change your mind every five second or just fucking do it. And I- I don’t get why it matters to you so much if my parents know or don’t. You haven’t even met them so who cares?”

 

All Will’s willpower and self-restraint goes into the task of keeping his voice even and it takes more than he’s willing to acknowledge. It’s almost like he only has two settings, angry and hurtful or sad and desperate. Trying for a calm and neutral approach is almost too much. “It doesn’t matter to me.” Will says, “Fuck family. But I know that it matters to you. Your family matters to you. Regardless of how loveless they treat you, they matter to you and you not telling them… that sends a message. And _that_ message matters to me.”

 

“Why??” Zachary snaps, irritation and hurt vivid in his eyes.

 

“Because to me this is serious, that’s why I chose to keep you.” Will puts on a bitter smile, “When you ended things with Jena, back then- I was the happiest guy alive. And I knew, I knew you weren’t- I knew you didn’t love me. But that was okay. I thought- I was so sure you’d come around. I thought we’d be good. But then we had to tell the team about us. I don’t know if you thought I didn’t see how ashamed you were of people knowing you were fucking me, fucking a guy, but I saw. And it hurt. But I thought, fine. It’s gonna be fine. He’s gonna come around. But you didn’t.”

 

“I’m not ashamed.” Zachary says, balling his hands into fists. “I’m not.”

 

Will really wishes he could believe him, but he can’t. He used to be able to convince himself, tell himself there are such things as happy endings or at least that it couldn’t all be bad forever. But apparently he had been wrong. Different dimensions of bad but still bad, just different shades.

 

He used to think he left his past, the awful time with his dad around behind, but here he is, back in Will’s life. And he used to think that Zachary would love him, that they would be a real couple, happy and in love and all that shit. But here they are, yelling at each other on the street.

 

“Yes you are.” Will shrugs, hoping Zachary can’t see the tears gleaming in his eyes through his glasses, “And that’s- I’m used to that. I just wonder- Now I wonder- Are you more ashamed of cheating? Or of dating me?”

 

Zachary stays silent.

 

“You are right.” Will says, “Better not answer that.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah :) some happiness but also well...the usual amount of pain? What else was tehre to expect let's be hoenst :))  
> Please leave a comment so i know how you feel about this + it motivates me


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here u go people. enjoy :)

**_ Now _ **

Will is a little off today, Zachary can tell. It’s not just their fight from yesterday or the awkwardness that has followed, the unexplained tension at lunch between Will and his family or the whole evening of not talking. It’s that, as far as Zachary can tell, Will hasn’t slept at all last night, which in itself is odd. Every time Zachary has woken up during the night, Will has been awake. And while it isn’t unusual for Zachary to have trouble sleeping, especially in a foreign environment after a day like that, it is for Will. Will can sleep everywhere, especially here at home.

But he hasn’t and the only logical explanation Zachary can come up with is that it has to have to do with their fight and with the things that have been thrown out on the table, laid bare for both of them to see. Things that have bothered Will for quite a while apparently. Zachary can’t help but feel guilty. He has failed Will again. He couldn’t deny what Will has confronted him with, couldn’t find the right words, the right truth or even ask the right questions.

In moments like this he wonders, even more than before, why Will agreed to bring him here in the first place. Here, where they would work on ‘making it work’ and try to figure out how to be around each other again. The idea had been, at least in Zachary’s mind, that getting away, physically and mentally from the daily struggles of their life would be the perfect opportunity for that. But right now it just seems like they stumbled from one tense, fight provoking environment into the next.

Right now they aren’t working on anything. Right now Zachary is sitting on the floor, leaning against Will’s bed, playing Dark Souls on Will’s xbox, while Will is watching.

Zachary has argued that they should play co-op but Will has shot him down, claiming he was fine with just watching Zachary play and that the second controller was broken anyway. Usually, this arrangement, Zachary playing and Will watching, would be fine with Zachary if Will was doing his usual commentary of Zachary’s gameplay, joking around with him and pretending to be offended by Zachary’s lack of skill. But he doesn’t, instead he’s just been lying on the bed, watching the screen and giving one syllable replies at best. When Zachary turns around far enough to look at him Will isn’t even looking at the screen half of the time. He looks thoughtful the first few times, then has his eyes closed. At least he still answers when Zachary directly addresses him.

But when Zachary turns around after having died the fourth time at the same spot, ready to ask Will to do it for him, Will doesn’t answer. He’s asleep, Zachary realizes, his glasses awkwardly miss-positioned from having rolled onto his side.

“Will?” Zachary whispers but Will doesn’t react. He looks relaxed right now, an expression that Zachary has last seen yesterday when they kissed in front of the house, before Zachary had seen Will’s dad and everything had went to hell.

Zachary still doesn’t get how it has all gone south so quickly. Sure, they were already fragile, walking on thin ice, the two of them, trying to not step on the cracks Zachary had created, but it still seems like everywhere they look there are new, or rather old problems emerging . Problems that they have never addressed, things Zachary has avoided thinking about for a long time. And they make not breaking in even harder.

He _is_ serious about them, their relationship. Zachary wishes he wasn’t, he wishes it was still as easy as that first night where it had just been about getting off, just him having fun with his best friend without all the other trouble surrounding them. But they have moved on from that and yes, maybe Zachary hadn’t liked that at first, still struggles with it sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t serious about them now. He was here, wasn’t he? With Will, meeting his parents, trying, trying to save this relationship, because the reality of almost losing Will, losing this between them, had been too damn scary when it had come down to it.

And he has almost said ‘I love you’ yesterday. Couldn’t that be proof enough of how serious this relationship is to him?

Zachary looks at Will’s sleeping face, carefully, slowly moving to take off his glasses so he doesn’t have imprints of the temples on his face when he wakes up. Will frowns a little but doesn’t wake, so Zachary carefully places the glasses on the nightstand next to Will’s phone. He still feels a little guilty for secretly blocking Jena’s number from it, but she would just have made everything more complicated for them and they hardly need that right now. Messing up is something they apparently manage quite well on their own; saying things the wrong way or at the wrong moment or not saying anything at all. Zachary doesn’t remember if talking had ever been so hard with Jena or if he simply never cared enough to really try.

He wants to try with Will. He _is_ trying.

“I am not… ashamed.” Zachary whispers quietly. It’s no use saying this to Will while he’s sleeping but maybe it counts as practice, maybe if he can talk now he can do it when Will is actually listening. “I am not-“ he cuts himself off, taking a deep breath.

It’s not easier with Will asleep. It’s not, because the problem isn’t Will, the problem is that Zachary doesn’t know how to figure out his own feelings. He just knows that he doesn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth and if he can’t, how is Will ever supposed to?

“Fuck.” He mumbles, when what he truly wants to say is sorry. He wants to apologize for this, for everything, for Will being right. He doesn’t get why, not really, why he _is_ ashamed. He doesn’t get why it’s so hard for him to let himself feel anything for Will, when at the same time it's like he’s drowning at the slightest chance of losing him.  He doesn’t get why Will puts up with it. It doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t get why I am like this.” Zachary whispers, so quietly his voice almost breaks over the words and he lets his forehead drop against the bed, “I don’t get why you love me.”

It’s ridiculous that a part of him hopes Will would have an answer, and yet, sometimes it feels like Will knows him better than Zachary knows himself. He most certainly loves him more, which is not how it’s supposed to be. Zachary knows that, but he prefers not to think about it too much, usually. And yet right now, with Will sleeping, the house quiet despite the pause menu music, he can’t quite silence his thoughts.

The truth is, sometimes Zachary doesn’t really like himself. Some days it’s bad. And some days it’s worse. It’s some sort of spiral, when it’s bad it’s bad and Will makes it better, Will wants him, Will loves him and for the moment it’s good, it’s great, but at the same time it’s not because Zachary doesn’t really know how to _let_ Will love him and why, he just knows that he feels a little less empty, a little less _not-enough_ when people want him.

Maybe that is why he slept with Jena. Maybe that is why he can’t help but do these self-destructive things, because he knows they’ll make him feel better temporarily, even if it’s just for a moment, a second. Because he’s wanted. But it doesn’t work, not in the long run. Zachary is looking at Will now and he feels like crying because how selfish and unfair and heartless is he to hurt someone as kind and loving this way, just to feed his own ego with hollow affection?

He wants to be enough for Will so badly, wants to be able to love him back the way he should, the way he knows he should be able to, and yet, at the same time, he knows that even if he gives it his all, he would fail. He always does. This, this vacation, yesterday is testimony enough of that. Zachary just can’t make it right and Will will stop loving him sooner or later. He will stop and things will be the way they should be again. Except that they won’t since Zachary will have destroyed the most important relationship in his life just because he is unable to do anything but breaking things. And everything inside him is screaming for him to be the one to end it, actively be the one to do it and not just be the cause of it.

It’s easy it’s simple, it doesn’t hurt as much if you burn yourself than if it’s someone else holding the flame, right? You can’t push me if I’ve already jumped. You falling out of love with me won’t hurt as much if I stop loving you first.

After all, it didn’t hurt when the relationship with Jen ended. Zachary was the one calling it quits and he had never let himself fall for her. Of course he had _wanted_ her and he had loved being wanted by her, but that had been it. Nothing more. Same for his high school girlfriends. Those relationships had been easy. They hadn’t hurt, hadn’t matter. They had just been a way to fill the void. But Will is different, maybe he has been from the start, and Zachary hates that. He wants to hate Will for it but he can’t, he has had to give up on that a long time ago.

And now Will loves him and Zachary, Zachary loves him back.

Zachary wonders if maybe Will is able to love him like this because his parents taught him. His mom seems to love him. A lot. There has been a bunch of shit Zachary doesn’t understand in the conversation he witnessed but she loves Will, that much is obvious. And she has seemed so happy to have him home. Zachary can’t remember a single time his own parents having been this excited over seeing their son, when he came home over break. It makes Zachary a little jealous and sad even though Will’s dad seems to be a different story and Zachary is definitely not jealous of _their_ relationship. They must have had a falling out some time back, Zachary guesses. Or maybe, Will took his mother’s side when his parents split. After all, that was what happened when a couple broke up, people picked sides. Zachary wouldn’t know whose side to pick if his parents were to divorce. He doesn’t really know if any of them would particularly care.

Who from Will’s and Zachary’s shared circle of friends would pick whose side when they break up is something Zachary doesn’t even want to think about.

He takes in a shaky breath, closing and opening his eyes. Will is still asleep, but there’s a tiny frown on his face that makes Zachary want to press his finger there to make it disappear. It’s such ridiculous thought but it seems to be the day for those.

“I love you.” Zachary whispers and the reality of it almost knocks the breath out of his lungs. He has let that happen. He’s the one at fault. He’s handed Will a hand grenade and then pulled the pin and basically yelled at Will to throw it back at him and god, he’s so scared. Because he _is_ serious about them. He told his mom about Jena without a second thought but Will, Will is so much more and Zachary doesn’t know how to handle that.

“Okay.” He says, more to himself than to Will, clearing his throat, “Okay, okay.” He takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes with his sleeve before putting them back on, standing up and stretching his legs. They hurt a little from sitting on the floor for so long.

Maybe Zachary isn’t ready to tell his family about him and Will yet, maybe he never will, he doesn’t know. But he knows that he hurt Will by not telling them. ‘It sends a message’, apparently. Maybe part of ‘trying’ is doing things for the other person that force you out of your comfort zone.

Zachary only hesitates a moment before grabbing his laptop out of his backpack, throwing a last glance at Will and then quietly slipping out of the room, closing the door behind himself as silently as possible. He doesn’t want to wake him.

He walks down the staircase, eyes wandering over the many framed photographs covering the wall. He has noticed them yesterday when they arrived, but hasn’t found a quiet moment to really look at them until now. There are pictures of Will and Michael and their mom, lots of them, baby pictures, from elementary school, toddlers, High school and everything in between. There is none with their father. Will’s mom probably took them off after they split up, Zachary guesses.

There is one that has Zachary smile a little more than the others. It’s an old one and it shows two women, one very young looking, holding a tiny baby in her arms, happy tears on her cheeks, smiling at the camera. It’s Will and his mom, the day Will was born. It says _Mom, Me, Aunt Tara_ on the frame in a kid’s spidery handwriting.

For a moment he wonders why Will’s dad isn’t in the picture. Zachary has a similar picture at home in one of the picture albums that shows him his mom and dad the day he was born. Same for Emma. It’s what parents do. Some universal tradition. But apparently Will’s dad hadn’t been around for his son’s birth, otherwise he would be on the photograph. Maybe Zachary will ask Will about it later, even though that might not be a good idea, since the topic seems to be kind of difficult for Will.

Will’s parents are out, there is no one in the living room or kitchen, just a note on the fridge saying that Will’s mom went to early shift and do groceries and that dad is on a couple of job interviews. Either way, there is no one around, so Zachary lets himself fall onto the couch, tugging up his legs underneath him and placing the laptop on the couch table in front of him.

A feeling of relief washes over him when he starts up skype and sees that Emma is online. He’s not sure if he’d have the drive to do this again if she weren’t. He hits the call button and takes a second to adjust the volume so the dial tone isn’t too loud in the silent room.

 Her screen comes to life a few seconds later and then Zachary’s little sister is beaming brightly at him, throwing in an adorable little wave for good measure.

“Hiii,” Emma chimes causing Zachary to automatically smile back. Even though she can be quite annoying, like 12 year old girls often are, she is still 90% cute in Zachary’s opinion. It probably helps that they never had any problems with getting along, despite, or maybe because of the age difference. Or possibly because most of the year, they have a significant amount of distance separating them, preventing them to get on each other’s nerves like siblings usually do according to pretty much anyone else.

“Hey Em.” Zachary greets her. “How’s it going?”

She chews on her lip for a moment apparently taking a moment to think about her answer before her bright smile is back, “We went to Disney World this weekend! And it was so awesome.” she exclaims, pointing to the Rapunzel shirt she’s wearing, “Oh, I didn’t know what your favorite princess is, dad says you don’t have one because you are a boy, so we didn’t get you anything.” She pulls a face.

Zachary smiles “That’s okay.”

“I can’t wait till you come visit us. I need to show you the new tapestries in my room, because they look kinda dumb in the webcam but I promise they are really cool.” She frowns throwing a glance at the blue colored wall behind her. Zachary refrains from telling her that he’s not really sure what the colors of her walls were before. He never really paid attention.

“Sure thing.” He says instead, flicking his fringe out of his eyes “Couple more days.”

“Yes!” Emma claps her hands together, excitedly. It’s unreal how much she seems to look forward to seeing her brother. Maybe it’s boring being the only child in the house. Not that Zachary is a child, but Emma probably still sees him as an ally against their parents - even though she’s always been their darling child. “I marked it in the calendar on the fridge, when your flight lands. I’m gonna make sure mom and dad don’t forget. We gonna pick you up at the airport. Promise.”

“Sounds good,” Zachary clears his throat, trying to ignore the twinge in his heart at his little sister having to make sure his parents pay attention to their oldest child coming home after months of absence. “So…how are you? Still an annoying ass know it all?”

“I’m not annoying I’m endearing.” Emma sticks her tongue out. “Also I’m working on this thing for science class,” she holds up something that looks to be a presentation poster one day, “for extra credit. It’s super fun.”

“Is it?” Zachary can’t remember ever enjoying doing anything for school. No matter what subject, even the ones he liked.

“Oh yeah.” Emma nods enthusiastically, “How about you? Is it nice where Meteos lives? Do they have a pool?”

Zachary rolls his eyes, “Not everybody has a pool. And no, they don’t. But it’s…” he hesitates, it’s too soon to tell, isn’t it? Yesterday hadn’t been nice but not because of the place but more due to the general atmosphere, the tension, and the fight with Will… Nothing Zachary can explain to her. “Well, Will is here. So that’s a big yay.”

Emma grins at him.

Zachary quirks an eyebrow, “What?”

“Nothing.” She looks incredibly smug and any other day he’d probably be annoyed by it but right now it just makes him chuckle.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” she mimics.

After a few beats of silence Zachary clears his throat. Apart from Will she’s probably the person who likes him the most in this world.

“Em?” he says before he can stop himself.

“Yees?” She tilts her head.

“I-“ Zachary begins but cuts himself off again, he looks in the direction of the stairwell. Will is probably still asleep, “…okay so. I think…” he hesitates, licking his dry lips and maybe Emma picks up on something being a little off because she doesn’t sass him for his inability to form a proper sentence. Instead she just waits with as much patience as a 12 year old with half a liter of coca cola in her system (judging by the half empty bottle next to her) can probably muster up. “I think maybe- I mean… I think I might be –like I could be- I am-“

“Uh…” Emma frowns, “what?”

Zachary sighs in frustration, gaining some time by adjusting his glasses, then fixing his fringe without looking at her. It’s just Emma, he tells himself, just his little sister. She adores him, unconditionally. She won’t mind. It’s going to be okay.

And yet it’s still more difficult than he ever imagined. Zachary takes a deep breath.

“Okay look…” Zachary glances at the staircase again, “what if I told you that I- that…” Zachary bites his lip, “-that… Will is… gay. What would you-“ Zachary looks down on his lap, his ears probably bright red, “What would you say?”

When he eventually does glance up Emma is squinting at him, which would look pretty funny on her kid face but he’s feeling a little too agitated to find amusement in it at the moment. God, what is he doing? What is he even saying? Babbling nonsense to his baby sister because he can’t sort out shit on his own. Fuck.

“Will?” she says slowly, “Meteos?”

“…Yeah.”

Emma starts chewing on her lip again, making her thinking face. “…I would say… Uhm…. Good for him?” she shrugs, “My friend Kaylee has two moms and they seem super cool. But she says it’s annoying because she always has to specify which mom when she’s yelling ‘mom’. And one mom is a bit stricter so-” she giggles, but before she can say anything else Zachary cuts her off. He doesn’t mean to but the words just stumble out.

“But wouldn’t you mind?” he blurts out, “wouldn’t you want him to be normal? And not- wouldn’t you…”

“Yeeah but it is normal though? Right?” she frowns at him, like he’s not making any sense, which he quite possibly isn’t, “Like… who cares?”

“Emma.” Zachary says and he doesn’t mean it to come out as pleading as it does. He doesn’t really know what to tell her. She says ‘who cares’ and it’s so sweet and innocent and ingenuous of her. And he envies her for it, for her naivety.

She’s too young to remember their uncle Paul who doesn’t come to family events anymore since he brought a guy with him for Christmas when Zachary was 12 and their grandma had said that ‘those kind of people shouldn’t be around kids’. Zachary knows it’s bullshit but it still stuck with him, how the whole family had just went with it and no one had spoken up. Emma doesn’t know that. She has probably never been called gay in sports class for failing to throw a ball properly before she were even old enough to know what the word meant either.

Zachary still remembers being thirteen and the thought of being gay crossing his mind for the first time and out of all the things he could have remembered, thought about, upon realizing, he had remembered the one time he had secretly stayed up late. He had wanted to catch a peek on what his parents watched when he was already in bed. He had remembered seeing his mom watching a movie. ‘Philadelphia’ was the name, Zachary knows now. And it had been about a guy who was gay. Gay, and dying of Aids. And Zachary remembers thinking ‘this is gonna be me’.

It doesn’t matter how stupid or irrational it seems now, looking back, but thirteen year old Zach had been scared, so incredibly scared, this and so much more in his head that he had simply decided ‘not to be gay’. He had decided to like girls, to get a girlfriend and hold her hand and kiss and do all the stuff other boys his age wanted to do. Just push it down. Ignore. Hope it goes away on its own. And he had thought it had.

And then Will had happened. And that drunk night and the kissing and touching and the ‘oh’ moment.

 “Okay. Okay,” Emma puffs out some air, tilting her head first left than right, “-so if… Will told me that he was gay-“

“Or not,” Zachary cuts in hastily, feeling himself blush even more, “Maybe not gay. Maybe he’s bi or- or not sure. Maybe he’s confused? I don’t know, maybe-”

Emma gives him a weird look, “Oookay.” She says slowly, “Maybe that. If …he… told me that I would tell him that it’s cool? It wouldn’t change anything. He’d still be my brother...’s best friend. And I’d still love him… as my brother’s best friend.”

Zachary doesn’t know what to reply so he just stays silent. Emma is a good kid, sweet and kind and smart and he really wants to believe her but everything he knows, everything he learned is asking to be proven wrong first. Emma says that it’s okay, that it’s cool and normal, but it’s not. For some reason Zachary can’t silence the voice telling him that it’s not the way he should be. It’s okay for Will and other people to be that way, but why does he have to be? Why can’t he just be normal? Like sports and be good at it like his dad? Be like the other boys, fall for girls and all that. Be the son his dad wants him to be. Just like Emma apparently is the daughter his parents want her to be. They love her, after all.

And Zachary is jealous of that too. He’s jealous of her, for their parents affection, he’s jealous of Will for being so okay with himself, he’s jealous of everyone who manages to like themselves and be normal and not fuck everything up.

There are countless things Zachary would change about himself if he could. Liking boys, is one of them. It would make everything so much easier. He wishes this thing with Will would have never happened. He would have never fallen for him and Will would have found somebody who loved him the way he deserves and maybe Zachary would hate himself a little less. And maybe his parents would love him the way they love Emma. It’s not that he dislikes people for being gay, he just dislikes himself for it. He has yet to figure out how that makes sense.

“Zach?” Emma says and Zachary’s head snaps up. He smiles at her, trying to not let his inner turmoil show. She’s just 12. She’s a kid. He shouldn’t bother her with any of this anyway. What the hell was he thinking?

“I-“ Zachary clears his throat, “I gotta go. Got shit to do. So…”

“Oh, okay.” She smiles, waving at the webcam, “Love you big bro.”

“Love you too, Em. Bye.”

He pushes the lap top shut and lets his head fall back against the wall, exhaling deeply. Everything is so confusing. He doesn’t want to lose Will, he knows that now, the thought alone hurts, but at the same time he still, even after one year, even after realizing that he loves Will, after asking Will to not give them up, the decision to keep trying, making an effort to try and talk, even after all that, Zachary still would change this aspect of himself that allowed him and Will to happen in the first place.

He wishes from the bottom of his heart that it would be like in the movies, like in those stories where love is enough and the sad girl who hates herself suddenly is pretty and happy just because a boy falls for her and they love each other. He wishes it would work like that, that Will loving him so unconditionally despite him actively sabotaging the relationship, would be enough. He thinks about Will’s blue eyes, the way his lips curl into a smile, the feeling of his hair between Zachary’s fingers, the way he makes Zachary feel and it hurts. It’s twisting in his stomach because deep down he knows that it’s _not_ enough. And if never being with Will is the price Zachary would have to pay to be normal he would. And that is not fair. It is not fair to Will or Zachary himself. He realizes that. A part of him even knows that it’s bullshit, but he still can’t help this feeling.

And he wouldn’t lose Will completely anyway, Zachary tells himself. They’d be friends. Best friends, just never start this new level of their relationship and it’d be good. They’d be good, without all the mess, the inhibitions and missteps. In the long run everyone would be happier.

Right?

Still, feeling as upset as he does right now, his first instinct is to crawl into bed with his boyfriend and just ignore the world with all its troubles for a few precious hours. He’s half ready to get up and just follow this first impulse, but just as he is reaching out for his laptop, he gets interrupted.

“Zach?”

It turns out he doesn’t have to make the journey upstairs to be with Will. Zachary turns around and finds Will standing in the doorway. His hair is messy and his shirt all crinkly from sleeping in it just now. He looks a little bleary and also somewhat confused in an agitated kind of way.

“Hey,” Zachary clears his throat and smiles, “You okay?”

Will is still looking at him for a few moments, biting his lip, before he answers. “I just… I woke up and you weren’t there and I… I thought- I don’t know.” He mumbles, shrugging.

“I was just...” Zachary gestured towards his shut laptop on the couch table, “I skyped with Emma. Didn’t want to wake you up so I went here.”

“Ah okay. Yeah cool,” Will nods, looking around a little hesitantly. “My parents still out?”

It strikes Zachary as odd Will seeming so out of it, looking around like he expects someone to jump scare them any second. Of course, it could just be his brain still being sluggish from sleep, mixed with the emotional aftermath of their fighting yesterday and the change of environment on top of it all. But it still seems a little out of character for Will. Either way, Zachary isn’t really sure how to ask or if he should, when he can’t put his finger on it anyway.

“Uh yeah.” Zachary answers with every intention of leaving it at that and not comment on Will acting a little weirdly. He doesn’t want Will to be pissed at him again, and maybe giving him some space would be the right approach for that, but the moment of reluctance coming from Will when Zachary pats the space on the couch next to invitingly has Zachary feeling strangely ill at ease. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he adds when Will sits down eventually.

Will doesn’t answer, instead he just leans in letting Zachary give him a quick peck on the lips. Zachary counts it as a good sign. This morning they didn’t kiss. Too much tension and unspoken words still hung in the air between them. It’s not much different now, except that it feels a little softer around the edges.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Will says, his voice a little croaky. They lock eyes for a moment, maybe two, then Will moves the rest of his body up on the couch, laying down, with his head resting on Zachary’s lap. He sighs softly, closing his eyes while Zachary begins to card his fingers through Will’s hair.

“I’ve been wondering,” Zachary begins after a while, clearing his throat first, “did you sleep at all last night? Because you being so tired, falling asleep in the middle of a conversation… It’s kinda weird?”

He makes sure to keep his tone light, without any hint of possible ill-will or accusation or whatever else could be interpreted into his words. He’s not completely sure why it feels necessary, but it seems to be the right call, being this careful, because Will cracks a smile at his words, blinking up at him. Maybe he’s making as much of an effort as Zachary.

“What can I say, you are pretty boring.”

Zachary snorts, “Ha, ha, okay. Sure, dude.” It’s a joke instead of an answer, but Zachary will take it. He smiles as Will closes his eyes again, doesn’t stop his hand moving through Will’s hair and for a few minutes all that fills the silence is the ticking of the kitchen clock.

Suddenly Will speaks, “…it’s the house.” He says, not opening his eyes but Zachary can see a tiny frown between his brows. Almost like he’s confused about why he’s talking.

“…the house?” Zachary echoes and now it’s his turn to furrow his brows. The house seems fine, there aren’t any squeaking windows are creaking floorboards or noisy neighbors. Nothing of that sort. The only reason Zachary can think of that would justify the house as a valid reason for sleep problems is that it’s a foreign place, something they aren’t used to. But that is a reason that fits Zachary not Will. Zachary is the stranger here. ‘Here’ is Will’s home, this house is his home. It doesn’t really add up.

 “Yeah,” Will doesn’t offer further explanations. “How’s Emma though? Still Little Miss Know it all?”

“Of course,” Zachary says, “She’s… good. Yeah. She’s good.” He’s thankful Will isn’t looking at him right now, because he can feel himself blushing. Which is ridiculous, Zachary knows that, but his body has the habit of reacting this way and there’s nothing he can do about it. Yes, Emma is good, it isn’t a lie and Will’s question was just friendly and conversational, but Zachary still feels a little off from his talk with Emma, from the emotions it brought up, thinking about all this, and the irrational part of his mind fears Will will be able to tell just by looking at him. And that would be fatal. They are in a fragile kind of good area since this conversation has started and Zachary is desperate to keep it that way. He doesn’t want to throw them off balance, so he cuts himself off, before another word can come over his lips.

Will shoots him a glance after a long stretch of silence where he apparently had expected Zachary to elaborate. He doesn’t say anything though, instead nestles his head back into Zachary’s lap. It’s good. But it’s also weird. It’s nice and sweet and soft and it should give Zachary room to breathe, them both a few precious moments of peace, but it doesn’t. It’s not right, it’s them pretending, it’s fake, an artificial calm and after yesterday, after his talk with Emma, it’s not what Zachary wants. A second ago he had thought he did, but he doesn’t. It’s not how this is going to work, not in the long run, it got them this far, but as it is now, it feels an awful lot like the end of the road is getting closer and they’ve been swaying left and right without really changing directions.

Zachary really isn’t ready to drive off that cliff yet, but he’s not sure they can get around it either.

“Will-“

“Zach-”

They speak at the same time, effectively cutting each other off the same second and if he didn’t feel so tense Zachary would find it funny. Will sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at the space between them on the couch. Zachary licks his lips.

“Listen-“

“Look-“

Again. It is kind of ridiculous. Zachary takes a deep breath, “Okay. You first.”

For a moment he was worried Will wouldn’t say anything and let them lapse back into silence, but Will nods, a somewhat determined expression on his face.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” He says and his eyes barely flicker away from Zachary’s, “I… I said some stuff…”

“Yeah, I remember.” Zachary mumbles even though he doesn’t mean to interrupt him. Will’s words are still painfully present in Zachary’s mind. He has battled them all morning. He’s not sure how he feels about Will apologizing for them now.

Will just nods again, “I want you here, okay? I do. I don’t mean it to seem like I regret bringing you here or… agreeing to _trying_. And I’m not going to randomly change my mind about it. I don’t mean to make it so hard for you.” He pauses, “I’m sorry. I’m trying too.”

Zachary doesn’t say anything, mostly because he isn’t sure what to say. Is he supposed to say that it’s okay, all forgiven and good? He would if it felt like less of a lie. Not because Zachary doesn’t believe Will is trying, he does, but because he isn’t sure if he’s in any position to forgive anyway.

Will shouldn’t be apologizing.

“I acted like a dick to you.” Will continues and Zachary can tell how carefully he chooses his words as if he too, is walking on egg shells, trying hard not to upset them but still getting out in the open what needs out. “What I said… the things about- Point is, I was out of line. I shouldn’t have said half the shit I said. I was being unfair. Pressuring you and guilt tripping you- All that-” he sighs shaking his head, “I took my mood out on you. And that’s not cool. We agreed on trying and that takes two people and me bringing up the… the cheating to justify me being an arse… that’s not helping. I know that, so-”

“Stop. Don’t. Will-” Zachary cuts in before Will can say any other words. He can’t stand Will apologizing, standing up for what he think he did wrong, when in retrospect he had every right to do so. Zachary clears is throat. “Some of the things you said are true. You were right to say them. I mean, it-” _it hurt_.

_But you are right, I was ashamed._

_And a part of me still is._

_And I don’t get why I can’t just love you the way you deserve or rather why I don’t want to when you make me feel so good._

_I don’t understand you._

_I don’t understand why you don’t hate me._

He remains silent.

Zachary has to close his eyes for a moment, letting out a shuddery breath while trying to collect words he’ll actually be able to say out loud and not just in his head or to a sleeping Will, “You said what you said because you meant it. Maybe you didn’t mean to say it now and like that. But you did mean it, didn’t you?”

Zachary can see in Will’s eyes that he wants to say no, wants to deny it and just forget all of those harmful things they said to each other yesterday and a part of him yearns for that to, but in the end, which is probably for the better, Will doesn’t. He looks kind of defeated.

 “I did.” He admits and for a moment they are both silent, neither of them knowing what to say, until Will continues. “Still. Like, what I said about you not telling your parents… Regardless of how it makes me feel, I… I shouldn’t ask shit of you that you don’t want to do and that you aren’t ready for or whatever. It’s _so_ not okay. It’s a dick move. Hypocrisy and all that.” Will chuckles, like he has said something amusing, amusing in the sad hollow way, but Zachary doesn’t have time to inquire because Will isn’t done talking. He gives Zachary a sheepish smile, adding, “I know that you… this… us…it’s not easy for you. You never wanted this after all.”

Zachary looks away. It hurt’s. It hurts that he’s right and it hurts that Will knows. Will knows Zachary never wanted a relationship with him. They started with Will having a crush on Zachary and Zachary shamelessly using that to satisfy his own fucked up need to feel validated and somehow it turned into this, into more, and Will wanted that, but Zachary never did. He can only begin to imagine how it must feel for Will knowing that. If Zachary were in Will’s place he’d hate him. In a way he still does. He hates himself even though he knows in the back of his mind that maybe it would be just as bad if Will hadn’t known, if he had believed Zachary had wanted this just as much as him.

“I told Emma.” Zachary says quietly.

For a second Will doesn’t say anything and Zachary doesn’t dare to look at him, then: “You told Emma what?”

Will looks at him with confusion in his eyes and for a second so is Zachary. What _did_ he tell her?

Zachary clears his throat, “…I meant to tell her about us but-“

Will interrupts him before he can explain that even though he meant to tell Emma about them he somehow didn’t and instead ended up rambling like a fool. “Zach…” he says, “you shouldn’t do that just because I flipped my shit on you. If you aren’t rea-”

“Will!” Zachary cuts Will off. He can’t stand Will being so nice and understanding right now for something that Zachary didn’t even accomplish. He’s a coward and Will deserves to know that. Even though it’s hardly any news. “I wanted to tell her.” He clarifies, “I mean I meant to. Believe me, but I… I couldn’t ok?” he swallows and when Will doesn’t reply anything neither bad nor really bad he risks a glance up at Will, “I kinda told her you are gay instead.” Zachary blurts out.

“Uh…” Will just looks at him blankly for a couple of seconds. “That’s kinda weird.” He says slowly.

Zachary groans and buries his face in his hands “Ugh I know.” He whines, “I’m just... really, really shit at this stuff, I’m sorry. I guess, I deserve feeling like a shitty boyfriend for more than one reason.”

To Zachary’s surprise he feels Will nudging his shoulder only a moment later. When he looks up Will is giving him a gentle smile and shrugs.

“It’s okay.” Will says, “We’ve established that I’m not really the king of proper relationship communication either, so…”

Zachary can tell that it’s an honest peace offer, but instead of taking it as it is he finds himself shaking his head. “Yeah maybe.” Zachary averts his eyes, looking at his hands, “but you had the right to be mad and angry and to be a dick to me.”

“No, I didn’t.” Will presses his lips into a tight line.

Zachary just stares at him, “I cheated, Will. I’m the arsehole, you’ve made that pretty clear. I’m the bad guy.” It feels ridiculous having to say this out loud but it’s the only way Zachary knows how to voice the lack of understanding he has for Will not hating his guts, when by all means and logic he should. How is Will not getting that?

“I know you… cheated. I know that. But-” Will says and it’s obvious in his face that saying the word is still costing him quite the effort “We can’t keep doing this. This blaming each other, cashing in on the guilt card whenever. Hurting each other and then justifying it by ‘you hurt me first… that’s not- I don’t think it works like that so I don’t want to keep doing it, okay?” he lets out a shaky breath that could almost be a laugh, “I told you before I don’t _want_ to be angry at you. So yesterday was… it was me fucking up, because-“

“Did you get a degree in couple therapy while I was down here?” Zachary says with a smile because he knows if he doesn’t interrupt Will now he’s gonna say something sweet and kind and forgiving and Zachary really doesn’t think he can take any more of that right now, his emotions are already at war with each other. He’s feeling so incredibly guilty for the same reasons as before and more, Will apologizing and make these huge concession to Zachary that make him feel so incredibly loved and so incredibly undeserving at the same time.

He couldn’t even say ‘I love you’ when Will needed the reassurance. He couldn’t even tell Emma the truth, just awkwardly talked around it because he never truly wanted to. Not really. He never _wanted_ this.

“Look,” Will smiles at Zachary’s little joke, but only for a moment, than his face turns guarded again, but there’s a certain vulnerability to it that makes Zachary almost reach for his hand, “I was just- My dad being here really threw me off. It’s not your fault. I just want you to know that.”

Zachary clears his throat, aiming for a more casual tone of voice “You really don’t like the guy, do you?”

Will nods, “The feeling is mutual.” He hesitates for a moment, gazing at Zachary, “It’s not really a matter of like or dislike or that he doesn’t care about me. He hates me, Zach. And I hate him.”

He says it as casually as Zachary asked, but Zachary can still tell how controlled he keeps the tone of his voice, which is odd, it doesn’t match the intensity his words imply. Hate. Zachary has a hard time imagining a child hating their parents and vice versa. Of course rationally he knows it happens, some people suck, but Will isn’t’ a hateful person. Zachary himself is the best example. Will has every reason to hate him and yet he doesn’t. And family… Zachary has yelled at his mom, at his dad often as a teenager, screamed that he hated them, got angry, mad, everything, but never had he truly meant it.

“I don’t mean that in a melodramatic self-sorry way.” Will continues when Zachary doesn’t say anything, too occupied with processing Will’s words, “He just does. He hates me and he has done it for a long time and he did some stuff and then I… I did some stuff that…” he pauses throwing a glance over his shoulder, almost like he expects his parents to walk in on them right now, “I’m the reason my parents weren’t together for the past seven years. I did that. And both of them still blame me for it. In their own ways.”

“What did you do?” Zachary asks, his throat suddenly feeling slightly dry. He wants to tell Will that he’s sure his dad doesn’t hate him and that his mom doesn’t blame him, because what parent blames their kid for their failed marriage, especially if she loves Will the way Zachary has witnessed yesterday. It just doesn’t add up, but Will seems so convinced, not like he’s stating his feelings, his suspicions, but like he’s simply providing Zachary with facts.

“Ah just… you know…” Will rubs his neck, averting his eyes and Zachary wants to yell _I don’t_ because apparently he doesn’t know anything about Will and his relationship to his family. Two days before Zachary had been under the impression that he knew pretty much all there was to know about his best friend, his boyfriend. But apparently he doesn’t.

“My dad always hated me, okay?  Like, before I was even born. He didn’t want my mom to continue the pregnancy. That’s why they broke up the first time and only got back together when I was almost two years old. You could say,” Will laughs a little at that, but the tone is more sad than anything else, “that being born was my first strike in his book.”

“Is that why he isn’t in the picture? The one with baby-you and your mom in the hospital? From your birth?” Zachary asks, “Because he literally wasn’t in the picture at that time?”

Will cracks a smile at that and nods and even though Zachary feels like he should say something more, further inquire on that apparently very strained father-son relationship, he doesn’t. It’s not that he isn’t curious, he is, but there’s a look in Will’s eyes that tells him that Will won’t go more into detail anyway, at least not without it being immensely uncomfortable for him and Zachary doesn’t want that. He owes Will a break, it would feel ungrateful to force him deeper into a conversation now that he isn’t comfortable with. So instead of asking why Will’s parents got back together that first time and why now, and how his mother can love her son so much but love a guy at the same time who hates said kid. He doesn’t ask why Will never told Zachary about this family issues when Zachary had told him about his own difficult relationship with his parents. Instead he chooses to smile back.

“You were a really tiny baby.” Zachary comments, nodding his head in the direction of the staircase.

Will snorts and it feels so incredibly good to see this honest smile on his face. “I know.” Will says, “It’s because I was a preemie.”

“Really?” Zachary gapes a little. Another thing he never knew.

“Yeah.” Will says and it sounds a little like he’s bragging, in a kind of endearing way. “30th week.” He adds.

“Is that early?” Zachary knows it’s definitely not to term, but his deeper knowledge about pregnancy and the sort could be described as limited at best.

“Yup.” Will confirms, “And the picture in the staircase, it’s not from my birth. It’s from later, when they could take me out of the incubator and mom got to hold me for the first time.”

“That is very sweet,” Zachary says after a moment, putting on a smirk, “I think I might cry.” He says it as a joke, in a mocking way, but there’s also a bit of truth to it.

Will looks right through it, “Uh huh.” He says, kind of smugly, “Sure.”

Zachary waves him off, but he can’t quite stop himself from giggling.

“Eeey.” Will gives him a playful shove.

“Tiny baby Will,” Zachary laughs. “And you still managed to grow up to become a giant. Impressive. What went wrong there, I’m asking you.”

Will raises his eyebrows but Zachary can tell he’s as glad about the new course of conversation as Zachary, “First of all, I’m not a giant. I’m just on the upper end of average height and you on the lower end. Ey!” This time it’s Zachary’s turn to give Will a shove, “And second of all, I’m a miracle baby. Appreciate me.”

“A miracle baby?” Zachary laughs, “Just because you were born a little prematurely. As far as I can tell coming early is your thing.”

“How dare you,” Will fake gasps, clutching his chest, “And yeah, miracle. My mom almost miscarried three times before they had to get me out via C-section. Not dying is my thing.”

“That’s a good thing.” Zachary stays smiling through the sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of little baby Will, being born way too early after almost dying three times and being tiny and sick.

Something about Will’s smile changes, like it’s a little less bright from one second to the next as he says, “My dad wouldn’t agree.”

“Well,” Zachary says grabbing Will’s face, “In that case, fuck your dad.” Then he kisses Will.

“Please no fucking my dad.” Will mumbles as he kisses Zachary back and Zachary can’t help but giggle at that.

“I told you, I prefer your mom.”

Will snorts, “Shut your whore mouth.”

“Make me.” Zachary says, raising an eyebrow, but he doesn’t wait for Will to do it, instead he is the one leaning back in, reconnecting their lips for another kiss, this time a little longer and deeper. Will hums appreciatively.

“I’m gonna be better,” Will mumbles after a few moments, “I promise. My dad… I’m just gonna ignore his existence. I’m quite good at that. I’m not gonna let him ruin this for us.”

Zachary smiles gently, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Will repeats, giving him another kiss before getting up from the couch, stretching out his long limbs, “I’m going to go take a shower. I don’t know, maybe after that we can go out or something.”

“Out?” Zachary tilts his head. He’s half inclined to pull the ‘we are gamers we don’t go outside’ joke again.

“Yeah,” Will nods, “there is this festival in town every year in April. Spotlight on the Arts. Like music and theater and all this shit. It’s pretty cool so I guess we could go if you…want to…” He bites his lips, glancing at Zachary.

Zachary smiles, “Sure, sounds good. Let’s fucking do it.”

***

“Zachary.”

Zachary almost drops his spoon into his cereal at the sound of Will’s dad’s voice suddenly coming from behind him. He was so busy munching on his cereal (the same they have at the gaming house. It had been unopened so Zachary is guessing Will’s mom bought it especially for Will) and watching some weird home renovation show on the TV that he apparently hasn’t heard the front door. Or the kitchen door. Or the steps. He’s just glad he manages not to spill any milk on himself.

“Oh. Hi. Mr. Ha- Frank. Hi. Hello.” Zachary stammers trying to figure out if he’s supposed to get up and shake the man’s hand or if a simple hello with him sitting on the kitchen counter is sufficient enough. He decides on sliding off of it before placing his bowl of cereal on the kitchen table, awkwardly clearing his throat.

Will’s dad doesn’t comment on Zachary’s word-stumble, just walks past him to the refrigerator, getting out a fresh bottle of beer, which he pops open on the countertop. He half raises it to Zachary before taking a sip.

“How are you? Do you like Fairfax so far?” he says, leaning back against the counter. He’s wearing a dress shirt and a loosened tie. Zachary vaguely wonders if he should ask how the interviews went, if that is socially required of him in terms of small talk. For now he decides to just answer the questions directed at him. He’s still trying to make the picture Will painted with his words earlier match this guy. He seems to have a nice smile, laughing lines around his eyes and Zachary thinks he’d probably find him likeable if it weren’t for Will telling him how the guy hates him, how he always did, even tiny little baby Will. He believes Will, of course he does, but at the same time he’s not sure what to think. Parents don’t hate their children, do they? Indifference, maybe. Disappointment and frustration, Zachary gets those, but hate? Hate seems so… extreme. Will’s dad hasn’t seemed hateful yesterday, when he has greeted them. Zachary knows his own dad wouldn’t have been so polite, offering to shake his son’s boyfriend’s hand. He wouldn’t have left Will’s behavior uncommented either, the way Will hadn’t even said hello, hadn’t even _talked_ to his dad, instead going straight to his mom asking ‘what is he doing here’ in that cold voice.

Will’s father is looking at Zachary expectantly.

“It’s …fine?” Zachary answers slowly, indulging in his nervous habit of fixing his fringe. “Yeah, fine. Nice house and all that.”

“That’s great.” Will’s dad smiles, a smile that shows teeth. “Jackie really wants you to feel welcome. She’s been stressing out about you boys coming here for weeks.”

“Yeah.” Zachary says after a beat of silence “It’s really… nice. Yeah. So…”

Will’s dad takes another sip from his beer, “It’s alright, Zachary. You don’t know how to act around me, your boyfriend’s dad, do you?” he chuckles, “Want one?” he raises his bottle.

“Uh no.” Zachary shakes his head, a little dumbly raising his cereal spoon in response before his brain can catch up with how stupid this must look “No, thank you.”

“You don’t drink?” Will’s dad asks and takes a sip, “Or just not a beer man? Don’t tell me you are one of those-”he makes a nondescript hand gesture, “- drinking girly drinks all day.”

Zachary shifts awkwardly, “No. I mean, I do drink, just not-” _–not before lunch? –not with the guy who allegedly hates my boyfriend?_ Zachary can feel his face heat up and once again he curses himself for having this instant reaction to almost everything.

Will’s dad tilts his head, “Just not what? Just not with Will’s old man? Why’s that? What did he tell you?”

Zachary swallows, averting his gaze feverishly trying to come up with something to say in response, but his head is empty. Will’s dad doesn’t sound mad and the casual way he’s leaning back against the kitchen counter isn’t exactly intimidating either and yet, Zachary can’t help but feeling like he’s about to say the wrong thing no matter what.

“No, no, I’m just not... Mixing beer with cereal isn’t really my thing, so…” Zachary tries to smile but it doesn’t really feel convincing so he chooses to stare at his cereal instead.

“Oh c’mon, Zachary.” Will’s father says, with the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lip, “Do you think I’m stupid? Do I look stupid? He talked to you about me, didn’t he?”

“I don’t think you are st-“ Zachary cuts himself off. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. He didn’t mean to insult the guy. Maybe he should have just taken the beer and forced it down. “Look I’m just… I didn’t mean to-” Again he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts, exhaling deeply, before making eye-contact again. “It’s just that- I mean I don’t know you, but Will doesn’t exactly seem too happy about you being here so…”

_So I’m not sure I should be talking to you?_

Should he? He doesn’t know. Will hasn’t said much apart from him and his dad hating each other since forever.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Will’s dad raises an eyebrow, his voice dry with irony but friendly. He pauses and somehow Zachary feels inclined to give the man an awkward half-laugh. “I don’t know where Will got that from,” he continues, not taking his eyes off Zachary, “being this resentful, grudge bearing. Not from his mother that’s for sure.”

Zachary’s first instinct is to argue, _He‘s not resentful,_ he wants to say, _He’s kind and sweet and I’m the best example of that, of how much forgiveness he is capable of._ But he doesn’t, it’s too personal and something in the way Will’s dad is looking at him makes Zachary feel a little bit intimidated. Despite the harmless smile and laid back posture against the counter.

“He’s got a reason though?” Zachary says carefully after realizing he has been silent for too long. It’s a question as much as a statement. Will has _told_ him he has a reason. Will has told him his father and him hate each other and he has made it sound like it is an unalterable fact, like something that has always been that way, nothing to discuss or explain, “For- I mean you are his dad and-” And what? What has Will really said, Zachary finds himself wondering. He remembers how just yesterday he has confronted Will about lying about his dad, about him not being cool with Will being gay, and Will has snapped that ‘uncomfortable family stuff was an easy way to have Zachary stop asking questions’. As if it has been Zachary’s fault. But today Zachary has asked, asked why Will’s father hates him, what Will _did_. And Will has been the one evading, not giving an answer.

Zachary glances at Will’s father, “He said you hate him,” he states. He’s not directly asking, that would feel like going behind Will’s back, but silently, secretly, in the back of his mind he hopes Will’s father will offer an explanation anyway. Or at least a little more information, something that will help Zachary understand.

“That’s what he told you?” Will’s father asks, almost casually, but there is a certain type of intensity in his eyes that doesn’t quite match. It makes the nervousness in Zachary’s stomach bubble back up. This is his boyfriend’s _father_ and under normal circumstances Zachary would- should try to make the guy like him. And a part of him, the part that struggles to process what little Will told him, still is.

“Yeah. So…” Zachary clears his throat awkwardly just to give himself some time to think about what to say next, if he has anything to say at all, “So I’m guessing there’s some history there, some family stuff, whatever, but-”

“Whatever?” For a split second there’s something similar to confusion evident in Will’s father’s eyes.  Then it’s gone, replaced by loud, guttural laughter, “The kid actually kept his mouth shut for once.” He shakes his head, “You are his boyfriend and you are okay with him not telling you anything?” He takes another sip from his beer, “Cheers to that.”

Zachary feels himself blushing at the slightly mocking undertone, but more than that it’s the insinuation that’s taking uncomfortable roots underneath his skin. There’s something that Will’s father expected Zachary to know, something that Will should have told him and usually, usually Zachary would shrug it off, a couple of days ago he would have because Will’s his best friend he _knows_ his best friend, his boyfriend. But yesterday, today, there are so many little things revealing themselves…

“He did- He told me that you _always_ hated him.” Zachary says and he can’t help sounding a little defensive. They talked, Will and him they talked today, they communicated, they did good, he hates this feeling of doubt coming up now, “You hated him before he was even born.”

“That’s how he put it?” Will’s father says and Zachary almost misses the way his lip twitches, the way he puts his bottle on the counter with just a little too much force. “The kid always liked to make shit up, blow things out of proportion. Bend the truth to his liking, the little brat.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said!” Zachary snaps. The way Will’s father talks, the contemptuous choice of words, when he talks about his son, it catches Zachary of guard. It’s so raw and undisguised, not a second wasted to think about their sharp edges. Zachary knows how much words can hurt, he remembers countless times his down parents have made him feel like shit with carefully chosen, articulate, rational words, hidden jabs and backhanded comments but this, this is different. And wrong. Everything about what Will’s dad just said feels wrong. His tone, his words, him calling Will a liar. It doesn’t fit with the sincerity, the quiet caution Will had expressed when he told those things to Zachary. Will doesn’t lie. The way Will’s father is talking about him now is only testimony to that.

Zachary bites his lip, “That’s why you didn’t want his mom to have him, isn’t it?”

“Stop believing everything my son says, Zachary. Just some friendly advice.”

There’s a flash of anger, of hate, on the man’s face and for the fraction of a second Zachary can almost imagine Will feeling like his father hates him, when he’s being looked at like this.

“And why wouldn’t I?” Zachary asks, pressing his lips into a tight line and suppressing the urge to shift awkwardly under the gaze of Will’s father.  Absentmindedly he realizes that his cereal has probably gone all mushy already.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Will’s father’s snorts, “Are you telling me he has never lied to you? Because I would bet my best bottle of whiskey that he has. It’s just what he does.”

Zachary opens his mouth to object but nothing comes out. Because Will _has_ lied before. About his dad.

The smugness settling on Will’s father’s face still stings though and a part of Zachary wants to argue, just for the sake of arguing, the other part wants to scream, because he trusts Will. He does, not just because he _has_ to but because Will loves him and Will is Will. Will is the guy Zachary loves back, the guy who had such a crush on Zachary that when he had been drunk and Zachary had asked him why he wanted him, he had actually told him, told him how much, told him, desperate, passionate, honest, so incredibly honest, laying himself bare in a way that Zachary would never be able to. He’s still that guy and one lie, one little thing shouldn’t change that.

“It’s not,” Zachary gets out, fighting to keep his voice from wavering, “You clearly don’t know him.”

“So Will told you I hate him.” Will’s father says in a somewhat fake neutral tone, ignoring Zachary’s words, “What else? That I walked out on his poor poor mommy after I knocked her up? Because I’m an arsehole? Because I’m a bad guy, right? A bad person, abandoning, hating this unborn child of mine. Yes.”

When Zachary doesn’t say anything Will’s father doesn’t seem surprised. If anything, Zachary’s silence appears to be some sort of confirmation to him.

“I bet he did.” He continues, “But he didn’t tell you how Jackie and I barely had enough money to feed ourselves, let alone another hungry mouth, did he?  No, he likes to leave that part out. He didn’t tell you that maybe I didn’t want her to have a child because we weren’t prepared to care for one and I left because I was overwhelmed, because I wasn’t ready. Maybe it was too much, too soon. Something I never wanted.”

Will’s father pauses and for a moment there is only silence hanging heavy in the air between them. Zachary knows he should say something. If he was less of a coward he would. It doesn’t matter how convinced, how self-righteous Will’s father sounds, what he says about being overwhelmed, them not being prepared, it being too much and too soon, something he never wanted, it’s excuses. Reasons maybe, but still excuses and if Will’s father is so willing to tell them to Zachary, he sure as hell told them to Will too. And that, that must have hurt. Zachary knows a thing or two about feeling unwanted, and actually having your own father spell it out to you makes it even worse.

That and the fact that the habit of making excuses, of finding ways to shuffle the blame around and Will getting hurt in the process, that is familiar. It’s something not only Will’s father is guilty of.

“But I left. Will is right about that. I did abandon him and his mom.” Will’s father says, turning to gaze out of the kitchen window for a moment. He takes the bottle of beer and brings it to his lips and after a moment of hesitation he finishes it with a few big gulps. Then he turns back to Zachary. “But I came back.  I came back to care for my girl and my kid. He likes to pretend that doesn’t count when what he should do, is be damn grateful. I gave him this roof over his head, I kept him fed and clothed and made sure he didn’t grow up in a fucking trailer park like Jackie. If he- if you want to blame me for anything blame me for failing to teach him respect.”

“I…” Zachary doesn’t know what to say. For the moment his mind is just blank. On the one hand he gets that there are two sides to a story, but there is something in Will’s father’s tone of voice that has Zachary shift with an undistinguished feeling of unease running down his spine.  The way Will’s dad talks about Will, talks about him lacking respect, him lying, being ungrateful, Zachary can taste the hatred in those words. He can see it in the man’s eyes. Will hasn’t exaggerated and even though Zachary doesn’t really have more information now than when this conversation first started, he believes him a little more. Despite all the unanswered questions and confusion, despite the doubt Will’s father has managed to raise in Zachary. He is not going to value someone’s side of the story higher than Will’s if that person clearly doesn’t know Will the way Zachary knows him. He doesn’t know if teenage Will was a brat, if he didn’t respect his dad, but whatever happened, even if it had just been normal father-son discrepancies, the guy had managed to make his son believe in his father hating him and that… that’s got to be a failure on Will’s father’s side. Not Will’s.

But Will’s father doesn’t see it that way. He hates his son and he has made sure that Will knows that, isn’t even ashamed to badmouth his son to his boyfriend, to someone who per definition alone would be on Will’s side. And Zachary is, he is on Will’s side and if Will isn’t here to defend himself and speak up against his father, maybe he should.

“I- I don’t know what went down between you two, but-” Zachary hesitates, taking a deep breath, gathering his courage, “But you… you say you came back to care for your wife and your child and that that counts for something, but- But if your idea of caring for your child ends up in him hating you, I don’t know, but that doesn’t sound like you… did a very good job.”

For a second Will’s father just stares at him, then he smiles.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he says, placing the empty bottle of beer in the sink, “Talking to me like this.” He looks back up and he’s not smiling anymore.

He might have said more, the look on his face is telltale sign enough but the sound of a car pulling up the driveway cuts him off. It must be Will’s mom. When Will’s father’s turns back from the window his expression is as smooth and casual as it had been when he had startled Zachary with his sudden appearance.

“Don’t you believe in second chances, Zachary?” Will’s father says, cocking one eyebrow, “Forgiveness? Moving on from the past?”

Zachary just stares at him. He knows, rationally, that Will’s father is talking about Will hating him, about whatever he did for Will to hate him and what Will did in return. And yet, there is still a sinking feeling manifesting itself in his stomach. There is no way Will’s dad knows about what Zachary did and how much he has been struggling with accepting Will’s forgiveness even though he begged for it. None of this makes sense and yet Zachary has a hard time fighting another wave of guilt another screaming question onto _why_ Will is forgiving him, giving him another shot and when the version of Will his father is presenting here would never show that level of kindness

“I… what?”

Will’s father just returns his gaze with a forced calm and Zachary has no idea if this hostility is directed at him or Will or the both of them. Zachary opens and closes his mouth unable to form any coherent sentences while Will’s father just watches him.

Then he smiles, just as the rattling of keys and the sound of the front door opening announces Mrs. Hartmann’s presence in the house.

“After all I forgave Will.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... surprise? :D  
> Let me know what you think


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is :) enjoy

**_ Now _ **

Will switches on the shower, turning the temperature all the way up before beginning to strip out of his clothes. It’s an old house and the pipes are as well, so it takes a long time until the water reaches a level of warmth that doesn’t leave Will shivering. It’s not too bad though, as long as you don’t get surprised by the little more than average time it takes to heat up.

Will neatly folds his clothes and places them on the toilet, then takes off his glasses to put them on the sink. His reflection in the mirror stares back at him blearily. He still feels more awake than when he has first woken up though, thanks to his unplanned mid-morning nap.

Zachary is right, he has barely slept last night. There had been too much going on in his head, keeping him up, their fight, his dad, everything. The slightest sound, even just Zachary turning next to him, which is usually a familiar and comforting sound, had kept him on edge, his body and mind just waiting for something to happen, very much aware of his father’s presence just down the hall. Will can’t quite decide if it is rational or irrational, this fear he is feeling. Because maybe his mother is right, maybe his father has changed and he won’t hurt Will again. Will wants to believe that, for her sake and his own. Even if he hasn’t, he can’t be so stupid to try something while Zachary, an essential stranger, is in the house. _That_ would be irrational.

Still. It has taken Will over a year after his father had been put in prison to be able to sleep through a whole night, even longer to stop thinking about it every time before he went to bed. Therefore it makes sense for him to remember, to make a few steps backwards at his father’s sudden reappearance. It has been hard enough to overcome what had happened to him with his father locked up, far away. But with him back, now, that’s just an entirely different story. One that Will never thought he’d have to revisit. Or tell.

He pulls back the shower curtain, holding his hand under the water. It’s warm, on the way to hot. He steps into the shower.

Last night, lying awake, listening to very little sound, the house, Zachary’s breathing, he had wondered what would have happened if Zachary knew, if Will had told him, some time before, before they even came here, about his father, about the truth of what he has done to Will. There are a hundred different ways that Zachary could have reacted and therefore acted in response to Will’s dad actually showing up, but Will is too much of a coward to spend a second too long thinking about them. It’s a secret, it’s his secret and it’s been this way for so long, sealed with the gleaming words of ‘don’t talk, don’t tell’ repeated again and again over the years, that even what little Will has revealed to Zachary just moments ago feels like a breach of confidence. On both sides.

Now Zachary is left with the beginning of a half-story with little to no details except some vague insinuation that could, in the worst case, lead to more questions. Questions, which Will is not ready to answer. But then again, Zachary has never been big on follow up questions and trying to really figure something out when it gets uncomfortable. Except that, the past few days, ever since they have agreed on trying, Zachary _has_ been trying, making an effort that Will really wants to appreciate. And he does. But the truth is deep down that it scares him too. Yes, maybe he wants more, has screamed for Zachary to love him, for this between them to be real, but a part of him fears that maybe he’s as much part of the problem as Zachary is. He loves him, of course he does, but he also keeps him at an arm’s length and that, that won’t work anymore, not in the long run, if both of them are in this for real. And it seems like they are getting close to that.

Today has been a good start. Them talking has felt right, even though it had been difficult for Will to admit to his mistakes this openly, actually talking about them with Zachary. It had been such a relief, such a weight of his chest, when they had still been able to laugh, to joke a bit, despite the seriousness of the conversation. It had made Will feel a little less like a fraud, when he hadlet the opportunity pass to reveal the whole truth about his father to Zachary. All that Zachary knows now is that Will’s father hates his son, and that is not a lie. It’s the truth. He knows that they don’t get along and that, in extension, isn’t a lie either. Zachary probably suspects some sort of falling out in the past and in a way, if you stretch the term a bit, twist it and turn it, that too kind of fits.

So it’s okay. They did good. They talked. And this afternoon they are going to go out, he will show Zachary his home town, they will have fun and enjoy their break and it will be just them, fuck the team, fuck Will’s family. Just them. Almost like a real couple on a real date. It will be good. They will be good.

Will lets the now hot water ease the tension out of his shoulders, his neck, letting his head fall forward so it rinses through his hair and even if the water pressure isn’t the best, it still makes him relax a little more each minute. He closes his eyes, exhaling deeply. For a moment he allows himself to just not think, just focusses on the sound of the water, the way it feels on his skin, its warmth surrounding him.

He must have spaced out, because when he hears the bathroom door opening, yanking him back to the present the water has already gone cold again. He hastily turns it off, his heart beating to his throat when he hears the door clicking shut again.

Zachary’s voice announcing himself with “Yo it’s me.” almost makes him slip, like an idiot.

“Jesus. Way to give me a heart attack.” Will sighs, taking a second to compose himself, before poking his head out from behind the shower curtain. It’s not unusual for Zachary to just walk in when Will is showering or the other way round. It’s just that it’s different for Will in this house, but how is Zachary supposed to know that without Will telling him?

“Sorry.” Zachary says, pushing Will’s clothes off the toilet lid and placing his bowl of cereal there instead. Will frowns a little but chooses not to comment. Instead he reaches out to take the towel Zachary offers him.

“Your parents are fucking weird.” Zachary comments, sitting down on the toilet lid and shoving a spoon full of very mushy looking cereal into his mouth.

“They are back?” Will asks, making sure to not let his voice hitch as he steps out of the shower, wrapped in the towel. Zachary nods and Will finds himself casually, not so causally, locking the bathroom door. He can’t believe he forgot to.

“Ya.” Zachary adds, after he finishes chewing and swallowing, clinking his spoon against the bowl, “Like, your dad is drinking beer, like real actual not alcohol free beer. Before lunch. And-“

“Of course he is.” Will mumbles even though Zachary doesn’t hear him and instead keeps talking about Will’s mom having come home to a couple of minutes ago and something about groceries and the truth is, Will isn’t really listening. His heart is beating a little too fast when he thinks about Zachary and his dad talking to each other, alone. It isn’t like his dad is going to say or do anything, but it’s still two parts of Will’s life, past and present, colliding when neither party has all the information, and the fact that Will’s father has been drinking, so much for ‘having changed’, doesn’t really serve to calm Will. He puts on a smile though, continuing to towel himself off quickly.

Then Zachary clears his throat. Will shoots him a questioning glance. He didn’t really notice Zachary has stopped talking. Zachary looks down on his cereal.

“Your dad he… he said some stuff…” Zachary pauses, chewing on his lip for a couple of seconds before he catches himself, “You didn’t tell your parents, right? About me… having done you know what?” He looks like he wanted to say something else originally but somehow ended up settling for this.

Will doesn’t know what to make of that and this weird question coming out of the blue, but he releases a relieved breath that got stuck in his throat when Zachary had opened with ‘your dad’. “Of course not.” He says, reaching for his pants.

“I thought so.” Zachary says, giving a small laugh, but it doesn’t sound quite right. Will turns to look at Zachary, who has stopped eating and is now just fumbling with his spoon, “Just- your dad talked some weird stuff about forgiveness and second chances and like…” Zachary awkwardly smiles and Will would offer a reassuring smile back if he weren’t so frozen, trying to figure out where this was going, what _else_ his dad might have said. “I know you said, the two of you never got along, that something happened and he blames you? For something you did? But you also hate him for something, obviously. So I’m guessing he did something too or maybe it’s just him being an arse… I… I just wonder, you are so… forgiving with me. About what _I_ did. Like, I fucked up so badly and you just… I was wondering why you aren’t forgiving him for whatever- But, fuck he’s an arsehole. The way he talked about you, I…”

Will swallows around the lump in his dry throat, combing back his wet hair with his fingers as he tries to figure out what to say. Zachary and his dad have talked. Okay, that in itself is not a problem. His dad would never outright say something about the abuse he inflicted on Will. He’s a fucked up bastard but even he wouldn’t do that. But then again, his dad has a temper, Will knows that better than most things and when he’s angry, drunk, talking about Will, he might have…

No. He hasn’t. If he had, if Zachary knows, they wouldn’t be talking about why Will isn’t forgiving his dad. No way in hell.

So his dad has made some vague comments at best. Which of course can’t have made sense to Zachary, since he doesn’t even know half the story; so he has tried to apply it to his own situation. Will can see where Zachary is coming from with this, and has thought about it himself, how him giving Zachary a second chance, working on forgiving him, is not something he _should_ be doing from a rational point of view. But regardless of what Zachary or anyone might think, Will doesn’t forgive easily. He doesn’t do it without thinking, doesn’t do it because it’s expected of him, or because somebody tells him that he has to for his own and maybe someone else’s sake. Like his family or his team. He remembers therapy, in the aftermath of everything, he remembers being told that forgiveness is the key to healing, all that, letting it go, whatever. They told him that being angry at his father, hating him, that that was giving him power, that Will was physically free of him but not mentally as long as he didn’t comply. It had just felt like another way, another person, telling him how to feel and how to act, how to deal with something that was inherently personal and intimate. So Will had not forgiven him, not just out of spite, but because something about it would have felt fundamentally wrong in a way Will has never been able to explain. Maybe the fact that his father never apologized, not once, not even in court, plays into it.

Forgiving Zachary doesn’t feel wrong. Difficult and painful, yes, but not wrong.

Zachary now drawing this line between himself and Will’s dad is something that makes Will’s stomach twist, making him feel sick to his throat. Because they aren’t just miles apart, Zachary and his dad. They are on completely different planets of ‘fucking up’. Damn galaxies apart. But Zachary doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know and Will isn’t sure how he’s supposed to explain without _really_ explaining.

Where would he even start? Where would Will start to explain what his father means with ‘forgiving Will’?

He would have to explain how after years of keeping his mouth shut, of silently enduring his father, fifteen years old Will had reached the point where he had known he couldn’t take it any longer. One night after his dad had left his room, Will no longer crying but just numbly making his way into the bathroom, quietly, methodically cleaning himself up, avoiding to even spare a glance at his reflection in the mirror, had realized that the next time would _have_ to be the last time. It had to end. One way or another.

Of course Will could have just gone to the police -looking back now, the rational part of him is aware of that- but at that time, in that moment, teenage Will hadn’t seen that as an option. He had known that he wouldn’t be able to say it, to talk about it of his own accord without explicitly being asked. So he had decided to do something else. Usually his mom had always taken care of Will’s injuries. As a nurse, she had basic medical training and if had needed it, she had stolen supplies form the hospital, knowing that bringing her son into the ER to get the various injuries her husband inflicted upon him treated would lead to questions being asked. And that eventually, the reoccurrence of abuse typical injuries would have lead to police and child protective services getting involved. She had known that.

And Will had known that too. So he had decided to gamble. If he could get his father to hurt him so badly that his mother would be forced to take him to the hospital, he wouldn’t be breaking any rules, he wouldn’t be _talking_ , he wouldn’t be telling. His body would do that for him and his mom would get him out of this hell like she should have done years ago when he had first told her about what had been happening. That, or she would let Will die.

Either way, it would end. And it had.

And yet here his father is, acting like he is in any position to be forgiving. To forgive Will for doing this, this ‘scheme’ that got his father into prison, split their family apart, hurt his mom, all that. Will wants to spit in his face, tell him that he doesn’t want or need forgiveness and that doing what he did is nothing he will ever regret. Because he is in the right here, he did right. His parents failed him and yes, maybe he hurt them and made things hard for their family, but he’s learned that it’s not his fault. None of it. He had been a child. Just a child. He hadn’t deserved what his father had done to him, no matter how difficult or bratty he might have been. And he didn’t deserve his mother blaming him for losing her husband or any of that.

Sometimes Will has to remind himself though, because getting here, getting to the point where he’s sure of those things has taken him years and there have been moments, after the trial, his father’s conviction, after it all had been over when he had lain awake in bed at night, hearing his mother cry in her bedroom, where he hadn’t been so sure at all. It’s so easy to blame yourself. Much easier than blaming the people that were supposed to love you but failed.

“Because there’s a difference, Zach.” Will says clearing his throat. He can’t explain much, but maybe he can try to at least make Zachary understand this, “Look, you did a shitty thing. That’s a fact. I know it. You know it. But… that doesn’t make you a shitty person. My father, however- he’s not even a shitty person. He is a disgusting piece of shit bastard, okay? He doesn’t deserve anything, least of all my forgiveness.”

“Okay. Okay. Yeah.” Zachary stares at him, “I was just… I was just asking because… “ he pauses, shooting Will a somewhat hesitant glance, “I didn’t mean to like say you should forgive him or something. I mean he sucks, obviously. Like you said. End of story. He was really, really mean. Not to me, but… in the way he talked about you. I’m just…” he looks down and the last words he mumbles are so low Will fails to hear them clearly.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah.” Zachary nods and they are both silent for a moment. “You want the left over milk?” Zachary asks after a moment, pointing to his bowl.

“You know I do.”

Zachary giggles a bit at that, handing Will the bowl and the familiarity and weirdness of the whole situation makes Will’s crack a small smile as well. This is what he loves about them; that a weird or tense moment doesn’t have to last long since they are both usually willing and able to switch to something else rather quickly. Right now Will welcomes it.

“Hand me my shirt?” Will asks after he has finished the bowl, placing it next to his glasses on the sink. Zachary doesn’t answer. He is just looking at Will, seeming kind of distracted. “Zach? My shirt?” Will repeats, “Please?”

Zachary snaps out of it, shooting Will a quick smile, “Yeah, chill. Got your shirt, dude.” He fishes it off the ground and tosses it at Will.

Will catches it, but hesitates putting it on. Zachary is looking away now. The tips of his ears seem slightly red. Will tilts his head.

“Zach.” He says.

“Yes?” Zachary says, apparently finding the tiles to his right very interesting. After a pause where neither of them say anything he adds “Would you put your shirt on already? Stresses me out over the damn thing and then not even- Tss.”

_Ah._

Zachary is turned on. Not full on ready to fuck turned on of course, but _interested_ turned on, Will can tell. And it’s not like it isn’t flattering, because it is, especially since Zachary rarely admits to things like this out loud, but Will can’t- won’t do anything sexual with Zachary right now, right here. It’s not because of the topic they just brushed on or the feelings it brought up, because usually especially in a difficult and tense situation there go-to tool would usually be sex instead of talking. A part of him wants to, wants to say fuck it and follow through on his words from earlier, promising himself and Zachary to not let his dad ruin this vacation for them, but he still can’t. The thought of having sex, being touched by someone else, even just a blow job or hand stuff, while his dad is just downstairs, it makes it impossible for Will to even think about sex as something pleasurable, as something he wants.

He looks at Zachary biting his lip, purposefully looking everywhere but Will and all he wants to do is kiss him, kiss him and touch him and make him breathless. Doing that one thing that always worked between them. It’s tempting, or it would be if Will didn’t know he wouldn’t be able to really go through with it. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to though.

He swallows and pulls his shirt on. There’s also the thing about the cheating and how they haven’t gone all the way ever since. They’ll have to get over that as well, or rather Will has to. Maybe he should tell Zachary that, it wouldn’t be a lie, it’s not that he doesn’t want to have sex with Zachary, it’s just that he can’t do it yet, because it will make him think of Zachary fucking that mystery girl. That there’s also a vastly different reason is nothing Zachary has to know, right?

“Zach-“ he starts but Zach interrupts him, surprising Will by getting to his feet a somewhat determined expression on his face.

“I think we should have sex.” Zachary says bluntly and Will can tell by the way Zachary’s lip twitches that he probably didn’t mean to blurt it out quite that way.

“Uh.” Will swallows, but he can’t come up with anything of more substance because Zachary quickly crushes their lips together for a kiss that is over before Will’s brain even registers it happening.

“I don’t mean like right now.” Zachary hastily adds, his fingers fumbling with the hem of Will’s shirt. He’s nervous. “But like soon. You know? I know it’s weird because… well obviously, what I did, but… I think it’s gonna stay weird until we just-“ he makes a vague hand gesture, that has Will raise his eyebrows.

“Just do it?” he offers.

“Yeah.” Zachary releases a breath, “Just get it over with. I mean- Okay that sounded bad, but…in a ripping the band aid off kinda way?” he shoots Willa hopeful glance, but when he fails to give an immediate answer he can see Zachary falter, looking down between them, “Unless you don’t want me anymore, of course. I mean, I get it. I just thought that-“

Will sighs, “Of course I still want you, Zach.” He carefully reaches out to place his hand in the nape of Zachary’s neck, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of his throat, “You know I do. Not wanting you is not- is never the problem.”

Zachary looks up at him, “So it’s the cheating?” he whispers.

Will hesitates for a moment. It’d be simple to just say yes. It isn’t a lie, it does bother him. A second ago he was ready to give that excuse. It’s just that it is only a small portion of the truth, and a truth that, no matter how justified, is hurting Zachary, making him feel guilty. And Will can’t stand that when he’s the one so actively keeping a secret from Zachary.

“It’s my dad,” Will blurts out, after a split second of internal panic he adds, “And my mom. It’s- With them in the house, it’s weird you know. It’s-“ he pulls a face and thanks whatever god he may be able to believe in that Zachary snorts in response, letting his forehead fall against Will’s chest.

“Fuck, dude. I get it. I-“ Zachary giggles a little and Will think it’s mostly because he’s relieved that he isn’t the only reason. And it’s not even a lie, just the truth a little modified. “I mean you…. kinda made me come in a public restaurant with all our friends around us but… parents is different, I guess. I just thought to bring it up and… I didn’t think. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Will says “You are kinda right. Just not… now. And here.”

“But you want me?” Zachary whispers.

“Yes,” Will mumbles back, “Just because I’m not having a boner 24/7 doesn’t mean I don’t.”

“Say you want me.” Zachary breathes, pressing his lips to Will’s throat. “Please say it. Just- c’mon.”

“I want you.” Will says, closing his eyes and for a second he’s back to that night where this thing between them first started, Zachary asking that very same question and Will’s heart skipping a beat the very same way, despite the alcohol in his system. He breathes in the scent of Zachary’s hair, shuddering under his touch, “You know that.”

He can feel Zachary nodding and thankfully, he stops, he doesn’t keep kissing Will, doesn’t take this any further, instead he wraps his arms around Will’s waist, turning this almost-making-out into a hug that Will returns gladly. But he doesn't do it for selfless reasons. Selfless would be that he knows that Zachary genuinely needs the reassurance, the validation, that he isn’t just asking this question again and again because he wants to be annoying or is fishing for compliments. Zachary is the one depending on this. Because otherwise his self-worth and trust in the relationship wavers. Will can see how unhealthy it is, for Zachary to be this dependent on him, but he has no idea what else he is supposed to do, but support Zachary like this. And yet, in the end, Will returns the hug for himself. Because he needs this, being close to Zachary even if it’s not in a sexual way. It helps him, it makes everything seem a little lighter for a short while.

He’s so glad that they haven’t lost this over the last weeks. This ability to shut everything out and just find comfort in each other.

By the looks of it, Zachary is too. He likes to act confidence but they both know there is more to it 90% of the time. Will still remembers how hard it had been for Zachary to actually believe Will wanted him the first time they fooled around, how Zachary had put it off as a joke a dozen times, giving this cheeky, fake-flirty act, because Will drunkenly proclaiming his attraction to him being sincere hadn’t even crossed his mind.

A part of Will wishes he hadn’t been so drunk that night, because even though he remembers most of it, the alcohol that had been in his system that night makes the edges a little fuzzy and parts, moments of it are more blurry than anything else. It’s a shame, really. He wants to remember all of it, every second, every moment -not because it had been so picture perfect or romantic, but because it had been them. Everything had felt so much easier back then. Objectively, it hadn’t been, they had been on the same team, had been best friends, Zachary had had Jena as his girlfriend and Will had been walking around with this unrequited crush. So it hadn’t been easier and maybe that was why Will had needed the alcohol that night, why wishing to not have been drunk would probably erase everything that had happened and everything that had grown from it. Because Will wouldn’t have said anything. They would have just walked home from that bar, joking and laughing and talking shit about whatever. Nothing would have changed.

But Will had been drunk. And things had changed.

 

**_ Then  _ **

“She totally wanted to fuck you.” Will said, causing Zachary to misstep for the fifth time in his unsuccessful quest to balance on the edge of the sidewalk. Thankfully, there were barely any cars around at this time of the night.

“You think so?” Zachary asked, wrapping an arm around Will’s waist for support as he grinned up at him, his cheeks flushed from the night air and alcohol alike.

“Oh yeah.” Will nodded, relishing in the warmth that spreads through his body from having Zachary so close, leaning into him for support even though they both knew that he wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this to really be necessary. But Zachary always got touchy after a few drinks and most of the time it was Will who Zachary chose to be cuddly with. Will’s hair was already messed up beyond compare from Zachary running his fingers through it and playing with the strands, while laughing at whatever funny thing Hai had said or Balls pulling faces at the taste of alcohol.

“She SO wanted your big fat cock in her juicy pussy.” Will stated in a purposefully matter of fact tone that had Zachary press his face into the crook of Will’s neck, giggling like Will had just made the joke of the century.

“Her juicy pussy,” Zachary repeated in an attempt of mimicking Will’s voice. He was pretty far off but the twinkle in his eyes was just too cute for Will not to laugh anyway. “Like you know anything about pussy. Virgin.” Zachary teased and Will only rolled his eyes in response. He wasn’t sure when or where Zachary had gotten the impression that Will was a virgin but he wasn’t going to correct him. It wasn’t not really wrong anyway. Depending on your definition of the word at least. Will never had had sex. That was true. At least not willingly. If you counted rape as sex, _then_ it was a lie, then he wasn’t a virgin.

But it didn’t matter. What mattered was the way that Zachary said it, carefully pronounced, with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes that was almost daring. Will smiled.

“You like that?” he tilted his head, feeling liquid courage in the form of alcohol buzzing in his veins, “Being the experienced one? Being the man, showing me how it’s done?”

He purposefully let his voice drop to something deeper, more velvety, a mock version of dirty talk, because he knew that  Zachary couldn’t stay serious when it came to this shit. He blushed and giggled but also almost undetectable pressed himself closer to Will at the same time. His hair tickled the underside of Will’s chin.

Will decided to take it a step further, “Would you like me to choke on your cock?” Will wiggled his eyebrows and Zachary snorted, “When it hits the back of my throat when you fuck my face because you just can’t control yourself? Making me gag on it like the virgin I am?”

Will wasn’t great at talking dirty but making Zachary laugh with over the top, exaggerated, horribly unsexy dirty talk worked so much better anyway.

“That’s a very gay thing you just said, good sir.” Zachary pointed out nudging Will in the side with his elbow.

“I am.” Will blurted out before his brain could come up with a better reply. It made him giggle, his own cliché coming out while drunk story unfolding itself in front of his eyes.

“Hm?” Zachary didn’t seem to quite grasp it, ingenuously smiling at him a few strands of hair hanging over his glasses, probably obscuring his vision quite a bit. Before Will could think about it too much he had reached out, brushing them aside, Zachary letting him even though at least to Will, the gesture felt strangely intimate.

“Gay. I am. Gay I mean. I’m gay. You know.” Will clarifies “As in like… I’d like to suck your cock.”

“Lol. Really?” Zachary said and Will almost started laughing again because people saying ‘lol’ in real life always sounded kinda ridiculous. “Why?”

“Why do I want to suck your cock?” Will titled his head pretending to mull it over in his head before he leaned in closer, until his lips were almost brushing over Zachary’s ear who shuddered a little at the sudden proximity, “Because I never wanted anyone,” Will paused his heart stumbling in his chest, intoxicated not only by alcohol but also Zachary, “…like I want you. When you talk, when you laugh, the way you look, and your lips, god your lips. I just- I want you. It’s so unreal.”

And it was. Probably more than Zachary would ever realize. It wasn’t just the fact that Will had fallen hard and fast for his best friend, but more. So much more. He never thought he’d find himself in a situation like this. Wanting, longing for somebody’s touch. Wishing to touch them and be touched in return. It felt like a miracle and no matter how stupid that sounded Will couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it like that. He didn’t even know if what he wanted, what he imagined in his head, if he’d be able to follow through with it or if the reality of it would make too many memories come up. _Trigger him_ or however this was called. Will didn’t know, but he knew that Zachary was looking at him with a unique mixture of confusion and amusement in his eyes. That and a new type of blush in his cheeks.

“You are drunk.” Zachary said licking his lips and Will nodded. He knew of course that Zachary wasn’t saying that to point out the obvious, but in a way to invalidate Will’s words. Like he didn’t know what he was saying, that this wasn’t him. Just the alcohol. But that was bullshit. Of course it was. Will knew that alcohol didn’t possess the power to turn you into a different person. It didn’t change you, make you do things, say things, you didn’t mean, you didn’t want to do. It maybe lowered your inhibitions but that was it. In the beginning, back when he had still hoped that things would get better on their own, Will had thought it was just the alcohol that had made his father do those things, that it hadn’t meant anything because his dad hadn’t been himself. And then it had happened when he had been sober.

“You drunk gay virgin.” Zachary said, smiling teasingly. He brought his hand up to the nape of Will’s neck, his fingers tangling into the little curls there. Almost as if to prevent Will from stepping back. They were still so close.

“Yeah I’m drunk.” Will whispered closing his eyes for just one moment, “But I want you when I’m sober too.”

He could feel Zachary’s free hand on his chest, twiddling with the fabric of Will’s shirt. When Zachary chuckled Will could feel his breath on his collarbone. How close they were, basically tangled up in each other standing on this sidewalk. It couldn’t be just in a friend kind of way right. It couldn’t just be guys being bros or shit like that. It didn’t feel like that. It felt like more, so much more and Zachary jokingly saying “So it’s you who wants my big fat cock in your juicy pussy. “ didn’t change that.

“Mhm.” Was all Will replied, breathing in the scent of Zachary’s hair.

Zachary grins, “You an egrill in disguise, Mr?”

There were a million different replies on Will’s tongue in that moment, something funny something witty, but none of those came out. Instead his voice was raw and honest and barely audible when he spoke.

“Do you even know what you do to me?” he opened his eyes, finding Zachary glancing up at him. “You have no idea, Zach.”

The light of the street lamp was reflecting in Zachary’s eyes, almost mesmerizing, as Zachary let his hand slide from Will’s neck to his jaw, fingers ghosting over the skin more tender than Will remembered ever having been touched. “Bro, I hope you got a plan for when to end this joke because…” Zachary’s lips curl into a smirk that was probably meant to show cheeky confidence but there was more behind it, a subtle kind of insecurity that might or might not have been just a phantasm conjured up by Will’s foggy mind. “...because if you don’t, I’m gonna fucking kiss you now.”

Will hadn’t meant for it to come out so desperate but when he spoke the words were exactly that, “Please do,” he whispered under his breath, “Or I’m gonna keep talking.”

_And say more than I’m ready to say and more than you are ready to hear._

Zachary chuckled averting his eyes and awkwardly fixing his fringe but that didn’t keep Will from noticing the glimmer flaring up in his eyes. He half expected Zachary to nope out now, remove himself from this moment and return to the silly joking around from earlier but for some reason despite the obvious embarrassment in his eyes and the fake confidence visible in his features he didn’t.

“You’ve kissed before though? Right?” Zachary mumbled, licking his lips when he finally looked at Will again, “Other people.”

The question was stupid. Will had kissed people before. Not many but there had been kisses. Nothing he ever elaborated to anyone, but still. It was even more stupid because Will had kissed Zachary before. Twice since they had met. Nothing serious nothing like this moment. Once on a dare from the other guys and once because Zachary had wanted to test if you could really exchange gum during kissing and apparently Jena hadn’t been amused by the idea.

This was different.

“Yeah, I’ve been kissed.” Will smiled.

“Guy or girl?” He didn’t say ‘except me’ but he didn’t have to.

Will could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage, the air between them feeling electric despite Zachary’s purposefully casual tone. “Does it matter?” Will whispered aware that his voice was everything but casual, “Just kiss me.”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise but for some reason when Zachary tipped up on the toes of his dirty sneakers to shove his lips against Will’s, Will still froze, for a few long seconds unable to remember how breathing worked. It took even longer for his brain to catch up, for him to start moving his lips against Zachary’s, returning the kiss he so ungracefully begged for, that against all odds made Will’s insides feel like they were on fire. In a good way. There was nothing wrong about this, not in this moment.

Will let Zachary part his lips, let him push his tongue inside and when Zachary laced his arms around Will’s neck he could barely believe it, this happening, Zachary seeming into it, kissing him more, deeper, sloppy but good, so good. He sighed into Zachary’s mouth and Zachary giggled in response, licking into Will’s mouth one last time before slowly pulling back until they were able to look into each other’s eyes again without going crossed eyed.

Zachary opened his mouth but Will cut him off, “Again.” He said.

Zachary didn’t protest. This time he didn’t go on his tip toes, instead he grabbed Will by the collar of his jacket, yanking him down to crush their lips together in something that was far hungrier than the kiss before. It still was neither graceful nor coordinated, with the both of them drunk and Will inexperienced as he was , but it didn’t matter, because having Zachary’s hands in his hair, Zachary’s tongue in his mouth was everything that Will cared about. It made his knees feel weak.

“Again” he whispered against the other’s lips his breath hitching before Zachary can even start pulling back, “Kiss me again.”

This is crazy, Will should have been thinking. They were outside, in a neighborhood where people knew them, just a corner away from the gaming house. They shouldn’t be doing this, no matter how intoxicated, no matter how good it felt. Zachary didn’t like Will that way, Will knew that, this didn’t mean anything. This _shouldn’t_ mean anything. But it did and Will had a hard time convincing himself that it meant nothing. That the way Zachary tugged at his hair, the way he arched into the kiss moving his lips like he wanted more and more and more, meant nothing.

“Screw you being tall.” Zachary mumbled into the kiss and Will knew he was referring to either Zachary having to get on his tip toes or Will having to hunch down and a part of his mind goes to a moment where they wouldn’t have that problem, where they’d be on a bed kissing, or Zachary with his legs around Will’s waist against a wall or-

“Fuck.” Zachary took a step back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes were glassy and his lips so deliciously red that Will could barely keep his eyes from dropping down. “Fuck, dude. You’ll give me a boner if we don’t stop.” He laughed shakily but his eyes were frantic.

Will swallowed, using all his willpower to not look at Zachary’s crotch. He had to play it cool. Had to do this in a way that wouldn’t spook Zachary.

“So?” Will shrugged, “Why’s that a problem?”

Zachary snorted, rolling his eyes, before giving Will’s shoulder a playful shove, “It’s a problem because, my guy, my dude, my Will, Will I don’t know how…” he paused, adjusting his glasses, “…because I don’t know how we’re gonna laugh it off if I come in my pants from kissing you.”

Zachary went for a cheeky smile that almost covered up the question mark in his eyes and the nervousness in his voice.

“’s the opposite of a problem.” Will argued his voice nothing more than a low murmur. “I told you I wanna suck your cock. No need to come in your pants.”

Will almost missed the way Zachary sucked in a sharp breath but he definitely didn’t miss Zachary’s hand jumping to his own crotch like he had to adjust himself. His cock. Because of Will. Fuck. He acted on pure instinct when he took a step forward, putting his hands on Zachary’s hips, pulling him close as close as before just that now Will didn’t connect their mouths instead he pressed his nose to the soft hair curling behind Zachary’s ear. He breathed in deep, and then whispered, wet lips brushing over Zachary’s skin for the first time, “I will, if you want me to.”

“Stop,” Zachary sounded more than just a little flustered even though he still appeared to be determined on keeping up the façade of a joking tone, “Or I’m going to believe you. I’m drunk enough to believe you, Will.”

“It doesn’t make you gay you know. Considering to take a blowjob that’s being offered to you.” Will mumbled pulling back just enough so he could look Zachary in the eye. Zachary seemed torn, caught somewhere between what Will hoped was want and whatever was holding him back from acting on it.

Will almost stumbled back when Zachary suddenly crushed their lips together again, kissing him again, short but hot, just a few seconds but it left Will breathless while Zachary ran his hand through his hair.

“I’m not gay.” He said.

Will looked at him, “I know.”

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Zachary said and Will tried hard not to let it show what those words did to him. _This_ , Zachary was talking about a this. That meant there was something, there was going to be something that Zachary as a precaution deprived of its potential meaning before it could even happen. A _this_ between them.

Of course it would mean something. But Zachary didn’t need to know that.

“I know.” Will repeated.

“But you want me.”

“I do. I do-” Will breathed, unable and unwilling to look away, the gleam in Zachary’s eyes just too addicting to even miss a split second. “You don’t even know how much I-”

They were kissing again, Zachary’s mouth open and hungry on Will’s, his hands in his hair, his body was pressing closer like he too just couldn’t get enough, to intoxicated by this, the mood, the alcohol, the way their tongues met. It was hot and desperate and so perfect, it was like Will couldn’t feel anything but this, this electricity between them. It finally made sense all the fuss about sex and want and need. Will could feel it with every fiber of his being and suddenly they couldn’t get to the gaming house fast enough. They kissed, again and again the last few meters to the door, Zachary unwilling to keep his hands off Will for even ten seconds causing them to need four attempts to unlock the door. When they finally stumbled in, they almost crashed to the ground, but somehow Will managed to keep them both upright so they both saw Jena sitting at the kitchen table. Not a second too late.

And for a moment the world had stopped turning. Will just stared blankly at her, his arm still around Zachary’s waist whose gaze was darting back and forth between Jena and Will. He was giggling of all things. But only for a moment, then bit his lips, his impossibly pretty red lips that had been on Will’s only moments ago.

Jena raised her eyebrows at them.

Zachary made a ‘yikes’ face before giving Jena a sheepish smile and untangling himself from Will. “Heeey, Jena…”

“Zach,” Jena replied, getting up and walking over to Zachary without sparing Will a single glance. “I’ve been texting you.”

“Yah. Uh…” Zachary scratched his head, “I was out with the guys…” he gestured towards Will “We were…you know… didn’t hear my phone and... yeah so… Sorry?”

That was a lie. Will knew it was a lie, because he had seen Zachary look at his phone several times. He must have seen Jena’s texts and purposefully chosen to ignore them. It filled Will with a certain kind of pride that Zachary had ignored his girlfriend to have fun with Will, laugh and drink with him, _kiss_ him. He had to bite back a smug grin. She was a self-righteous bitch, ordering Zachary around to her liking because she thought she was more than he deserved. It only served her right. The way she was looking at Zachary now made a perhaps slightly suicidal part of Will want to rub it in her face, but instead he awkwardly shifted, crossing and uncrossing his arms, avoiding to look her in the eyes. There had always been something intimidating about her.

“I know.” Jena said sharply, “I called Daerek. He actually picks up when I call him.” She turned to give Will a quick once over, “And hi, Will, by the way. Had a nice evening?”

“Hi. Yeah.” Will mumbled feeling Zachary’s eyes on him for a split second, as if he was scared Will would give something away. Will couldn’t blame him. If Jena knew they had just been kissing, all those things Will had said to Will, she would probably cut both their balls off.

“Well?” Jena was looking at Zachary again, expectantly, like she was waiting for him to do or say something, but Zachary seemed a little at loss, meeting her gaze with nothing but question marks in his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

Jena shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line. She grabbed her purse. “I’m going home, Zachary. You are drunk. You smell disgusting. Call me tomorrow.” She paused, turning around again halfway to the door, “You know what, make that the day after that.”

“You waited here all night just to leave when I get home?” Zachary seemed honestly confused. “What?” he looked at Will then back at her, “What is that? What kind of logic?”

Will just shrugged, a little too busy trying to avoid eye contact with Jena and at the same time angling himself in a way that would hide the fact that he was having a boner, still a little turned on from making out with her boyfriend. Oops.

“Oh forget it.” She snapped after another few moments of embarrassing silence. She slammed the door shut behind herself and suddenly they were alone again.

Zachary turned to face Will, “Honestly,” he said taking a step forward so he could unceremoniously unzip Will’s jacket, “What the hell?”

He wasn’t looking Will in the eyes, instead, his gaze was focused on Will’s throat, their height difference again very obvious. It sent a shiver down Will’s spine for a reason he couldn’t quite comprehend. Despite the casualness of his tone Zachary’s eyes felt intense on Will’s skin, the way they travelled over Will’s jaw to his lips and then finally, finally they locked eyes again. It was like the Jena interruption had never happened. Zachary had to look up for their eyes to meet and it made his cheekbones more pronounced and his eyelashes seem longer. The way he was glancing up at Will through them was casting shadows on his skin, having Will fighting the urge to palm himself through his jeans. That and to kiss Zachary again.

“She waited so you’d know she waited,” Will found himself mumbling instead, his throat incredibly dry and his skin feeling even hotter than before. “So you’d feel bad about it.”

“Really?” Zachary suddenly didn’t seem particularly interested, judging by the way he let his lips ghost over Will’s neck, almost touching, causing goosebumps to rise. There was a pause then, a couple of heartbeats where neither of them moved, Will only feeling Zachary’s shaky breath on his neck. That and Zachary’s hand on his stomach over the fabric, unmoving but still so incredibly hot and Will had to close his eyes for a moment. He almost jumped when he felt Zachary’s tongue on his neck only the fraction of a second later and his hand was no longer over the fabric but had slipped underneath, touching Will’s bare skin in a tentative and yet determined way.

“Do you?” he found himself whispering and Zachary pulled back, glancing up at him with dark, lust blown eyes. It was almost like Zachary didn’t even remember that only minutes ago his girlfriend, his fucking girlfriend had been here, that-

“Do I what?” Zachary asked his voice nothing more than a hushed whisper while a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He reached up to touch Will’s cheek, fingertips then brushing along his jawline, his eyes following his own movement like he was mesmerized by it.

“Feel bad about it?” Will mumbled, closing his eyes again just as Zachary let his fingers wander to Will’s lips. The touch was so soft and exploratory, like Zachary wasn’t really thinking, just acting, just following the beating of his heart, the desire pulsing through his veins.

 _He should,_ a voice in the back of Will’s head whispered, Zachary should feel bad, should have a bad conscience and so should Will, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but turned on and amazed, amazed by this feeling by Zachary wanting him back, by enjoying this by his mind staying in this moment, only here, only with Zachary.

But what if Zachary had a bad conscience? He didn’t seem like it, too concentrated on this, on them, his drunken mind preoccupied but Will’s heart still skipped a beat when Zachary’s eyes found his, looking at him like he was going to respond.

Will parted his lips, wanting to tell Zachary not to answer, just to kiss him again instead. He wasn’t ready for this to end yet. Not now, not when it was still feeling so good, not when Zachary was finally, finally so close and yet not close enough.

Will parted his lips, just the slightest bit, like he was going to say something, but ended up coming up empty.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Zachary said then, almost sounding thoughtful while two of his fingers slipped past Will’s opened lips. He stared intensely at Will for just a few seconds until Will’s brain caught up and he closed his lips around the two digits, slowly starting to suck, pressing his tongue against them from the inside, as he carefully watched for Zachary’s reaction.

Zachary drew in a sharp breath and Will didn’t miss his free hand flying to his crotch, palming himself through his jeans. His eyes didn’t leave Will’s though, so Will continued, growing a little bolder with each moment of having Zachary’s fingers in his mouth. He could see in Zachary’s eyes that they were both thinking the same. The intensity was almost killing him. In a few moments this would be something else. Not just fingers.

When Zachary withdrew his fingers, he left a wet trail of salvia on Will’s chin.

Will wiped his mouth with his sleeve, “She’s your girlfriend.” He whispered. It was obvious in that in this moment it didn’t matter to Zachary. Not the way that it should, maybe not at all. Zachary just bit his lips, looking somewhere between flirty and bashful, as he hooked his  fingers in the belt loops of Will’s jeans, tugging at them as a gesture for him to come forward, following his backward steps to the couch.

“You could have asked her to suck your dick.” Will pointed out, just as Zachary let himself plop down and it only took a second for Will to kneel down in front of him, letting his hands roam from Zachary’s knees to his thighs, slowly pushing his legs open so he could comfortably get between them.

Zachary was staring straight ahead, his gaze focused on nothing but Will and god, did it feel good to be the center of his situation, to be looked at with so much desire and want and curiosity mixed with a only a little bit of shame. Will could feel Zachary’s eyes travel up, over his jaw and cheeks and finally to Will’s lip that were still feeling tingly from Zachary having touched them only moments ago. Finally their eyes met again and Will couldn’t help but smile. It probably wasn’t sexy or seductive but Zachary still reacted, a groan escaping from his lips as he ran his fingers through his own hair. “Fuck,” he whispered and Will didn’t think he had meant to speak out loud, not this first part at least. When he continued, blue eyes back on Will, his voice sounded so dry and raspy in a way that went straight to Will’s cock, making it twitch in the confinements of his jeans.

“I don’t-“ Zachary, bit his lip, “-I don’t think Jena was in a dick sucking mood.”

For a long long moment nothing happened. Then Will decided to just go for it.

“Probably not.” He said, hoping that this would be the last moment of tonight they would spare a single thought on Jena. He scooped closer, making sure to seem confident and sure of what he was doing, not wanting to show Zachary how much this really meant to him. He shot Zachary a glance. Zachary looked nervous.

“Do you really want to-“ Zachary began and Will knew, he knew because him and Zachary they got each other, there was so much that could go unsaid between them, so many ways in which they just clicked. He knew what Zachary was going to say. He was going to ask if Will was sure, if he meant it, if maybe this was just a joke after all, if Will really wanted him, wanted _this_.

Instead of answering Will ducked down, hands still firmly placed on Zachary’s jeans covered thighs, and pressed his face into Zachary’s crotch. The hiss and mini jump Zachary made at that feel like a tiny little victory, just like the fingers tangling themselves in his hair did. Will could feel Zachary’s arousal, so close so hot and it was doing things to him, making him feel hot all over. He was so turned on, absolutely captivated by the way he could feel Zachary’s cock twitch against his cheek, only layers of clothes between them.

It was amazing. It didn’t freak him out. It didn’t make him nauseous or scared or-

It was just him. Him and Zachary and Will doing this because he _wanted_ to.

“Will,” Zachary breathed and the hoarseness of his voice, the way his fingers twisted in Will’s hair and his fingernails slightly scraped over his scalp made Will let out an embarrassing little sound, half way between a whine and a moan and he couldn’t stop himself from moving one hand down between his own legs. “Will let me-“ Zachary continued and Will reluctantly lifted his head at the slight tug Zachary gave his hair. “My pants we need to- I-“

It only took them a moment, Will fumbled just a bit, his fingers just a little bit shaky, unbuttoning Zachary’s jeans and then, finally slowly pulling down the zipper, as Zachary was looking down at him, hand never quite leaving Will’s hair.

“Are you gonna suck my dick now?” Zachary asked a somewhat playful smile returning to his lips.

Will had his fingers at the waistband of Zachary’s boxers, unmoving for a moment as him and Zachary silently gazed at each other. He licked his lips, “Only if you kiss me first.”

And Zachary did. He did and Will pushed his hand past the waistband and wrapped his hand around Zachary’s cock.

It was so different, so new and exciting, this feeling of touching the person he’d been pining over for what felt like ages, this feeling of doing this because he wanted to, of this being Zachary. Because it wasn’t just Will touching a cock, feeling its hardness in his hand, the slickness of the precome gathered at the head, it was also Zachary’s soft gasp, the way his hips jerked just a little bit and his hand in Will’s hair, gentle and yet so very present. For a second it was almost overwhelming.

“You want me to, though?” Will found himself whispering, giving Zachary a couple of tentative strokes that had him buck up into his touch paired with a gasp falling from his lips, “You want me to-“ he glances up at Zachary, “-to do this, right? You want this?”

_You want me touching you?_

“Fuck yeah,” Zachary said in a hushed tone, breathless as he shoved his boxers down as quickly as he could manage in their current position, “Yeah I do. Will, please-“

And then there was Zachary’s cock. Will had just touched it a moment ago but seeing it was still different. He had wanted this, he still wanted it, but the skip his heart did had nothing to do with arousal. He was nervous. And not just because this was Zachary, his best friend and crush.

If he weren’t so drunk he’d probably think about the fact that at least there was one good thing about everything that happened in the past with his dad. He’d think about how he was not inexperienced how he didn’t _have_ to be nervous about giving a blowjob, didn’t have to worry about how to relax his jaw, how to not gag, how to handle all this. After all he had done this, or rather _something_ like this before.

He wrapped his hand around the base of Zachary’s hard cock, giving it a slight squeeze before shooting Zachary one last smile and dipping his head down, putting his lips around the head of Zachary’s dick. The sound that Zachary made at that wiped everything other than him, than this, than them, form Will’s mind.

“Oh god,” Zachary whispered.

 _Oh god_ , Will agreed in his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usually all my gratitude goes out to Ali who's the reason why thios story is so much less badly written than it could be :D
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed. Please leave a comment <3


	11. Chapter 11

Zachary had never realized how little alone time Will and him truly get in their day to day life. They live together, they work together, they basically see each other 24/7, but they are rarely ever _alone_ with each other. Not before the end of the day at least. Late after scrims, when they retreat to Zachary’s room, tired or frustrated. And even then, when it is technically just the two of them, with them in the room, there is this constant awareness of other people being around.

It has never been something Zachary has thought about much or really minded at all. He loves his team, they are his friends, his family of sorts and being able to live his dream with them is nothing short of incredible. And yet, now that he’s away from them, looking at it from a distance, it kind of puts things in perspective.

They are _never_ alone. All day every day, there are people. Back in California it’s the team, here it’s Will’s family. There is always someone, always something. At first Zachary isn’t sure what to do with this piece of insight on his own relationship dynamic, he just knows that it bugs him in a way he can’t yet explain. It starts to shift into place when he realizes another thing. Namely the fact that him and Will, they’ve never been out. As in on a real date. Like real boyfriends. Like real _dating_.

Hell, he even went on dates with Jena and yet he never noticed until now that him and Will never have done that. Maybe, he has never really thought about him and Will’s relationship like a dating kind of relationship. He never thought about them that way. They were best friends who occasionally had sex with each other. And were romantically involved. Somehow. One thing had bled into the other and there had never really been a starting point, a defining moment that had made Zachary realize that they were in fact in a dating kind of relationship. Maybe not when it had started and maybe Zachary never wanted it, but fact is now, they are. Now he’s here, in Virginia of all places, out with Will, visiting this festival thing and it’s amazing.

It’s great and Zachary loves every second of it. It’s just them and it’s so incredible, spending time with each other in a sea of strangers. And it feels like a date. It feels like a date and Zachary finds himself wishing they could have done this sooner.

Of course they don’t kiss or even hold hands but when they walk their shoulders sometimes brush and when it’s dark and they are just wandering the street, not going home, just walking, nowhere in particular, Zachary sneaks his arm underneath Will’s jacket, around his waist and it’s so incredibly nice and Zachary can’t even begin to describe how overjoyed he feels. So he tells Will. He tells him that technically this is their first date. And Will’s eyes light up and he grins like it’s fucking Christmas. It’s ridiculous and perfect and Zachary feels like they couldn’t be further away from the mess their relationship has been the past weeks.

Will leans into him and they laugh and true to it being a first date Will kisses him in front of the door and it makes Zachary giggle and blush and for once everything feels alright. And he imagines, just for a moment, that maybe this, _them_ , could work. They could make it work, fix it, whatever.

Maybe.

And because it’s a first date they don’t have sex that night, even though Will’s mom and dad are out and Michael is at a friend’s, so they technically have the whole house to themselves. Zachary doesn’t quite get it but for some reason it’s still nice. Pretending like this. Doing this _dating_ thing _._ Instead of ordering take out like they usually would, they actually cook. Nothing great or fancy. It’s spaghetti because even inapt pseudo adults like the two of them manage to boil noodles and put ketchup on them. It’s awesome anyway.

At the end of the day Zachary falls asleep, arms wrapped tightly around Will and legs intertwined, wondering how things would be if _this_ was their everyday life.

 

***

 

The next day they hang out with Michael for a couple of hours. Mostly, they play Mario cart and it’s crazy how competitive Will and Michael get. It’s pretty fun to watch, this dynamic they got going. It feels more like they are friends than brothers sometimes, but it’s obvious how much they mean to each other and Zachary doesn’t exactly envy them. He has a sister of his own, who he loves dearly. But it’s still different. Emma is his little sister. He, her big brother. Will and Michael, despite the age difference, feel more like equals.

Later they go meet with an old friend of Will’s. Her name is Linda and she lives in Washington Dc which is roughly a 40 minute drive and at first Zachary decides he doesn’t like her. At first just because Will has never mentioned a Linda before and suddenly they are supposed to use one of their precious vacation days to spend time with her. And then it’s because she turns out to be one of those overly happy and friendly people. And maybe her hugging Will _very_ excitedly and a little too long for Zachary’s taste, plays into it as well.

But mostly it’s that she seems to know things, things that Zachary doesn’t know. When Will mentions his father being back, there’s a flash of surprise in her eyes, anger, irritation, but she doesn’t say anything, not after her gaze flickers back and forth between Zachary and Will for a second, before finally settling back on Will. Sadness replaces the anger in her gaze, sadness and compassion and just a hint of disbelief. She squeezes Will’s hand for a moment and it’s so obvious that she gets it, whatever it is. She’s not surprised or confused or anything. She just smiles and shoots Zachary a quick glance and Zachary tells himself he imagines it but Will gives a tiny headshake and that, that makes him kind of feel like shit. Because this girl, Linda, a person Will has never spoken about before, apparently knows this thing between Will and his dad far better than Zachary does. And Zachary is Will’s boyfriend for god’s sake. He should know stuff. He should be the one Will is having silent conversations with when something’s up. He should be the one Will trusts.

More importantly, he _wants_ to be the one Will trusts.

So he dislikes Linda. He prefers to focus on that, but Linda, damn Linda, doesn’t make it easy. The problem is that Linda is not only nice to Will, her friend, but to Zachary as well. And it doesn’t even feel like stilted politeness. She actually asks him stuff, about himself, his family, where he’s from and what he likes outside of League (not much but that’s not the point). Actually, she seems genuinely interested in the whole esports thing and even admits to having created a league account once upon a time. Apparently Will and her used to play together at some point and Zachary tries to ignore the irrational little ping of jealousy he feels at that thought. League is _their_ thing. His and Will’s. It’s their life, their _now_. Linda is the past.

Much to Zachary’s discontent, they (or really, Will,) decide to sleep at Linda’s that night. Zachary would object, but he has the feeling that it’s not really because it’s too late at night or because Will claims to be too tired to drive. He guesses that it’s the fact that at home, Will has still trouble sleeping, still wakes up in the morning with deep shadows under his eyes and that haunted look on his face.

_It’s the house_ , Will had said and maybe this, sleeping on the pull out couch of his High School best friend, with Zachary tugged into his side, is a way to avoid whatever it is that keeps getting between Will and a good night’s sleep in his childhood home. If it helps him, Zachary decides to be okay with it. He’s not going to say how he’s not exactly comfortable sleeping in the apartment of a girl he doesn’t know and who seems to know his boyfriend better than he does. He’s going to suck it up and do this for Will because he owes him. They agreed on not blaming each other anymore, not using blame and guilt to justify shit and all that but Zachary knows, he just knows that he has to earn Will’s forgiveness even though Will claims that Zachary isn’t a terrible person for the terrible thing he did.

Zachary knows he’s wrong.

So he decides not to say anything, not to complain and he sticks with that. It doesn’t come close to make up for what he did, but maybe it counts as a start. Zachary would at least like to tell himself that. At least until he’s been lying awake for an hour, unable to stop thinking about Linda and her doe eyes and the way Will has hugged her and how she has put her feet in Will’s lap so casually as they watched TV while eating pizza and Will hasn’t even objected, hasn’t even looked at Zachary, to see if it bothered him.

Zachary clears his throat. He’s not planning on saying anything but his throat feels a little dry and he’s _not_ \- He’s not going to annoy Will with this, not when he’s being childish and has no right and not when Will finally seems to be able to sleep, but he’s-

He clears his throat again and Will shifts behind.

“What?” he mumbles into Zachary’s neck.

_Damn._

For a brief second Zachary wonders if he could fake being asleep convincingly enough for Will to believe he just imagined the awkward throat clearing, but then he feels a warm, familiar hand rub up and down his arm, lips pressing to his shoulder.

“Zach?” Will mutters and despite the hoarseness of sleep clinging to his voice he already sounds more awake than a moment ago. Zachary sighs softly and rolls over, so he’s facing Will in the relative darkness of the room. The blinds are only half closed and the city lights filter through the gaps.

“Did you and Linda ever have sex?” Zachary asks. The words just come out, direct and blunt and they make Zachary feel vulnerable and guilty in a way he wouldn’t be able to explain but something about the darkness, the night makes him braver nonetheless. It’s easier, talking like this.

Will doesn’t say anything for a moment and Zachary bites his lip.

“Dude…” Will says eventually and he doesn’t exactly sound offended or mad just kind of confused for the duration of a second. Then he cracks a smile, “Dude, you gotta explain to me how you managed to miss the fact that I’m kind of gay. Like… really really really gay. I feel like you should have picked up on that. At some point.”

“I know that.” Zachary huffs, feeling his cheeks flame up. He wishes Will would just get what he means, without him having to spell it out but some things just don’t work like that it seems. “I mean like…before? You two seem super close and I just thought maybe with her you tried…”

“Tried…?” Will repeats slowly,

“Tried to… not be…. You know. And instead be…” Zachary cuts himself off glancing at Will through his eyelashes because there is no way he’s looking at Will directly right now. A wave of relief and shame alike washes over Zachary when he sees understanding flash across Will’s face.

“Tried to be straight.” Will fills in the gap.

Zachary nods. “Yeah,” He says meekly. He knows what he’s baring with this question, or at least in some way implying and Will is too smart to miss that. But he’s also kind enough not to call him out on it.

Instead he licks his lips, gaze flickering over Zachary’s face and by the way he speaks, Zachary can tell he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Having sex with a girl wouldn’t have made me straight though.” He says, “Just like… having something happen with a guy didn’t make me gay. You know that is not how sexuality works.”

This time it’s Zachary’s turn to say nothing, his chest feeling tight and cheeks hot. He presses his face in Will’s chest instead of answering, because he doesn’t want to be thinking about this, not really. Yes, he asked, but just because of Linda, because he wondered- because they seemed so-

“Besides,” Will adds after the silence stretches on for a little too long, “Me and Linda? No. Like…” he lets out a soft laugh, “No. She’s…well… a lesbian. So the two of us? Very incompatible in that department. And I told you back when… I told you, you were the first person I ever wanted to do this kinda stuff with. So.”

“Oh.” Zachary exhales, “Ok.” He feels stupid now.

“Zach,” Will pauses and Zachary can tell he is frowning just by the way he lets out a breath, “Zach are you- were _you_ jealous? Of Linda?”

His tone is a mixture of amusement and confusion and none of the judgement or annoyance Zachary had feared even if not expected. It’s almost like the idea of Zachary being jealous seems utterly absurd to Will. Or rather, the idea of Zachary having any reason to.

“Oh fuck off,” Zachary tries to shrug it off but he doesn’t quite manage, instead of casual and confident he still sounds as meek as he feels. It’s annoying and embarrassing but it’s late and dark and it’s just him and Will and if he just moved his hand a little he’d be able to feel Will’s heartbeat inside his chest and that, that makes it better. Not good, but better. “I know it’s stupid, okay?” he admits, “I know, I have no right to be jealous. I _know_ that. It’s just… You haven’t seen her in forever. You said so yourself and yet you are like- you are so close, like instantly. And she… I feel like she gets you,” _More than I do_ , “You got those…silent conversations going over my head and I feel like- It’s annoying. It’s- I feel like the third wheel. And-“ Zachary swallows, looking down, “And I’m just not used to not being your best friend.”

The thing is, usually he _knows_ that he is Will’s best friend. Always, every day, he knows he’s Will’s number one person and that is a certainty Zachary has come to subconsciously rely on. He draws confidence and reassurance from it. It’s his safety net. Usually. Now they are here with Linda and suddenly Zachary can’t shake the feeling that he’s not the person Will is friends with best in this apartment.

Of course she is technically not in the apartment right now, but the feeling remains.

They both fall silent for a moment and eventually Zachary lets out an embarrassed noise, rubbing his hands over his face before pointedly turning around so his back is facing Will.

“Let’s just sleep.” He says a bit too quickly, the slightest tremor in his voice.

Will hesitates, biting his lip, still unsure about what he should say, how he could make Zachary feel better about this. It would be easy to say that Zachary is, in fact, Will’s best friend if it was entirely true. It wouldn’t be a lie either but the lines seem so blurry nowadays and Will isn’t sure how to explain to Zachary what Linda means to him. And that sex has nothing to do with it. At least not in the way Zachary has insinuated. Of course Zachary is Will’s best friend but Linda will always be Will’s best friend too. In a different way. And how is Will supposed to explain that? Explain how she’s been there for him through what has probably been the hardest time in his life, the aftermath of his father’s abuse, the struggle he had with it, with himself, with everything. She knows it, she knows him. Maybe not him now, not the person he has become when they have been apart but the fundamental structure of what makes him who he is. Linda has an understanding of it that no one else does. And Zachary being jealous of that is frightening, confusing and flattering all at once.

“She’s…” Will tries, talking to the back of Zachary’s head now, “She _knows_ me. She knows stuff. But that doesn’t mean that you are- Look, there’s no reason for you to be jealous, okay?”

It’s lame. It’s an half assed excuse of consolation that Will himself is annoyed by but his tongue feels plump and useless in his mouth and he has no idea how to _talk_ to his boyfriend. Words have never been his friends but right now it feels like a joke in itself.

“Stuff.” Zachary echoes and Will winces internally. “What’s stuff supposed to mean?”

If their positions were reversed Will would ask the exact same thing, get hung up on it. He recognizes the barely concealed hurt and irritation in Zachary’s voice and that too is familiar. Zachary wants reassurance, he wants answers, he wants to know that he’s not been left behind, not second choice.

“You _are_ my best friend, Zach.” Will insists. “And you are my _boyfriend_. You are the most important in my life. You have to get that. Me and her being close, understanding each other, knowing each other doesn’t change that. It doesn’t, okay?” he smiles because he knows even though Zachary isn’t looking at him right now he might be able to tell by his voice anyway. He read that once in a book. “Because you know me too.” He adds.

 He doesn’t add, _‘Me now.’_ Because if he did he would have to explain that ‘me now’ is someone Will has fought very hard to be. Being okay, with himself, his life, his past, everything. He fought for this and he’s so glad that Zachary only knows him now, doesn’t now the fucked up, scared and twisted kid he used to be. The version Linda had met, who she became friends with. Will likes himself _now_ , the Will Zachary knows, better than the Will Linda got to know that night she was in the hospital for a concussion. The same night Will made his first statement to the police from his hospital bed.

“Okay?” Will asks softly after Zachary doesn’t give an answer, even after several moments. “Hey?”

“Yeah, okay.” Zachary grumbles in response and Will realizes that it’s not enough. His words, his feeble attempts at evading actual explanations and still trying to reassure Zachary, they don’t suffice. He swallows. They’ve never been good at talking, at feelings through words. They’ve been good at something else though. Something else worked well for them for quite some time.

“Zach,” Will whispers pressing his lips to the nape of Zachary’s neck, softly, first just a brush against skin, then firmer, insistent, drawing a shudder from him. He doesn’t turn around though. But he makes no move to shift away either. So Will slips his arms around Zachary’s torso, moving his hand over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

Zachary still doesn’t say anything but he shifts a little, one hand coming up to Will’s wrist, not stopping him but moving with him. It’s enough of an agreement, a silent understanding for Will to shift closer pressing himself along Zachary’s backline, kissing Zachary’s neck again and again, breathing in his scent, feeling his quickened breathing where his chest meets Zachary’s back. It takes another few seconds until Zachary turns around, quickly and suddenly crushing his lips against Wil’s engaging him in a hungry kiss that speaks more of emotions than sensations, but like this, with Zachary kissing him so fiercely, his fingers tugging at Will’s hair, the two begin to lose their distinction by the second.

This is good, this is a start. Will kisses Zachary back with as much passion as he can muster up. They can do this. They have to. It’s how they work. Will knows it. And it’s fine, it is. They can figure out the talking step by step, when he’s got his head straight again, his dad out of the picture again, the cheating thing a bit less recent, all that. They can work on that then, right now, he feels like they need this, the familiarity and comfort of sex.

And Will wants it. He still does, even after everything and it hasn’t been a lie, not once, when he told Zachary that he always wants him. Sometimes other feelings are just more prominent. Right now, Will has to concentrate on getting his mind and body on the same page, on the page of ‘letting your boyfriend fuck you because you are both emotionally inept kids that apparently need sex to validate and convey feelings’.

He just needs to find a way to lock those thoughts out, thoughts of his father, thoughts of Zachary with somebody else, thoughts of how the last time they did this, going all the way, ended in Will yelling at Zachary to finally tell the damn truth.

“Will…” Zachary mumbles between kisses, shifting so his knee press between Will’s legs, “You want to…?” he sounds positively breathless, focused on this, only this.

Will gives him a crooked smile, “You know I do.”

 

***

Things go well from that day on. They don’t have sex again, because Will still insists on not doing it with his parents in the house and Zachary can respect that. But even without sex, things go well. Things go well until Zachary’s last evening with the Hartmann family before he’ll leave for Florida the next day.

They eat dinner that night with the whole family there. Will’s mom and dad and Michael. All of them. It’s the first time since the first night, because by either some freak coincidence or careful planning, Will and his father have had little to no interactions, due to Will’s father being mostly out, the past week. But now they are all at the same table and apart from a few well-meant but futile conversation attempts from Will’s mother nobody has said much the past ten minutes, all of them mostly eating in silence.

Will has helped his mom and Michael to set the table while his dad has sat on the couch, beer in hand, watching some Dart competition on TV. He has invited Zachary to join him, but Zachary has declined and instead chosen to help Will as well as he could, which, granted, is not very well since he doesn’t know where anything is and Will’s mom has been adamant about him being a guest and that guests shouldn’t help.

Zachary notices the grim glares Will shoots his father now and then, but nobody says anything so Zachary doesn’t either. Individually, he has learned, it’s quite easy to talk to both Will’s mom and Michael. They are nice people and small talk doesn’t feel as awkward and forced with them as it usually does with people you don’t know very well. So he wouldn’t mind dinner with them and Will. It would be nice in fact. But while Will, Michael and their mom seem to be a unit of their own, the addition of Frank Hartmann seems to alter their dynamic completely.

Zachary mostly notices by Will’s demeanor, the hardness of his face. The guarded expression in his eyes and the tension in everything he does is too obvious. He spends so much time with Will, 24/7, the most part of the year, it’s always them, always Sneaky and Meteos, always Zachary and Will, so he might not know Will as well as he thought, but he does know that something is off, and he knows it’s because of Will’s dad. Which, of course, might be the fact that Will’s dad is an arsehole. Zachary still remembers very clearly the deprecative way his father has talked about Will that second day. But somehow he as the feeling that there is more to it.

Over the past days Zachary hasn’t be able to get more information about why the relationship between father and son seems to be this strained, and even though he is curious, he also feels uncomfortable with prying, with asking Will questions about something he doesn’t want to talk about. Not when the whole purpose of this trip is mending _their_ relationship and not whatever made Will and his dad dislike each other this much.

And up until this moment of them all sharing dinner, it hasn’t really mattered that much either. Because things have gone well. Because Zachary has felt happy. After the bumpy start of their vacation things have gone uphill. They laughed, they kissed, they fucked. They went to the carnival together and played video games with Michael and it all had felt so damn normal, so easy and sweet, and yet extraordinary. It had felt like they were just normal boyfriends, with none of the stress and pressure of their careers weighing them down. Zachary loves C9, of course he does, he loves playing for the team, he loves being a pro gamer, he loves it and that hasn’t changed but this taste of a normal life, of what they maybe could have had if they had met at Uni instead, or at some anime convention, becoming friends, starting dating, falling in love, first kiss, first time, moving in together some day, all of that, in the right order, not this weird mess they are living now.

He really hopes they’ll be able to take some of this, some of the recharged energy and happiness and all that, back to California, back to their real life and maybe they’ll continue to be good. Maybe they really can make it work. Somehow.

He muses about that while he’s eating -no one is talking anyway- but somehow he must have been lost deeper in thought than intended, because suddenly he’s being addressed. And oh, apparently there _is_ conversation happening. Conversation he is getting involved in just this second.

“What do you think about it, Zachary?”

Zachary looks up, snapped out of his train of thoughts, finding Will’s father looking at him, expectantly, waiting for an answer. Zachary shoots Will a help seeking glance, hoping he’ll be able to fill Zachary in on what question he has missed, but Will is just staring straight ahead at his father, his jaw set tight, and shoulders tense. He’s stopped eating.

“Uh,” Zachary gives Will’s father a sheepish and apologetic smile, “Sorry, what was the question?”

Will’s father doesn’t seem to mind, pointing at Will with his knife, “My son’s hair. You like bottle blondes?”

“Uh,” Zachary shifts a little in his chair, “…I guess, yeah?” It’s just a simple question but a part of him still feels like he could give a wrong answer, like this isn’t just simple conversation. “I like it. Blonde is cool.” He adds putting on a smile and glancing at Will. He does like it, Will’s hair, and Will knows that. It’s not a secret that Zachary likes to touch it quite a lot, especially when he’s drunk but that doesn’t have anything to do with the color. Zachary likes it blonde, but he likes it brown too. He hasn’t really thought about which he prefers. The fact that it’s attached to Will seems like the most important part anyway.

Will’s father appears to consider his answer for a moment, chewing on his food while eyeing first Zachary then Will, “Yes.” He says, “I do too.” His lips curl into a smile and Zachary can feel Will tensing next to him.

Carefully so nobody notices the movement, Zachary lets his hand drop underneath the table, coming to rest against Will’s thigh. Will shoots him a glance, it’s not a smile, not even close, but there is some gratitude in his eyes that tells Zachary that his support, even though he once again doesn’t know why exactly it seems to be needed, is appreciated.

“Your mother used to have bleached hair too.” Will’s father says after a few beats of silence, only filled by the sound of people quietly eating. “Did you know that?” he asks, directed at Will. Will doesn’t answer, instead proceeds to cut his meat into even smaller chunks. Zachary frowns.

“Answer me.” Will’s father says, his voice not exactly sharp, but it has an edge, something that makes Will, look up, lips pressed tightly together, his fork and knife clatter when he drops them on his plate. He still doesn’t say anything.

There’s a deafening silence coming down around them suddenly and Zachary feels more than just a little lost. He doesn’t get why this is so tense, why Will’s mom is giving Will this pleading gaze and why Will doesn’t just answer. Even if you don’t like someone, simple conversation for the sake of family piece or whatever should be possible, right?

Then Michael moves to stand up, plate not even half finished. Before he’s barely half out of his chair, his father’s hand is on his shoulder, keeping him from moving further. He doesn’t even look at him, but Michael freezes, slowly, like in slow motion, he sits back down. Will’s father is still looking at Will, raising one eyebrow.

“No, I did not know that.” Will says eventually, through gritted teeth.

Will’s father doesn’t seem surprised by the answer, only satisfied. Zachary feels like he’s missing something, like this is some sort of game, or power struggle between Will and his dad, that’s being held right in front of his eyes, with everyone but Zachary knowing the rules and the reason. Zachary nudges Will with his elbow, shooting him a questioning glance and this time Will reacts, giving Zachary a smile that’s probably meant to be reassuring but has the opposite effect because why would Zachary need reassurance? What he needs is to know what is going on, what this conversation is about and where this grave atmosphere is coming from.

“When I first met her she had her hair blonde, “ Will’s father says, a somewhat smug expression on his face, then he turns to look at his wife and the change of Jackie’s expression is imminent, it goes from worried to smitten, a soft smile spreading across her lips, “Didn’t you, love?”

“Yes, I did.” She sighs, smiling at the memory.

“My perfect Jaqueline. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” Will’s father adds sweetly, reaching out to take his wife’s hand in his for a moment, “I knew she was the one from the first moment.”

They smile at each other and it’s sickeningly sweet, the whole scene, so warm and loving. But when Zachary turns to look at Will again his face is blank, apart from the angry line at his mouth and the barely disguised anger in his eyes. It’s confusing, it doesn’t fit, who gets so angry at his parents being in love? Even if Will doesn’t like his dad, his mom seems to love him a lot and your parents being happy, that’s something to be happy about as well. Will has once mentioned about how he wishes his mom would go dating again, find somebody to love and who would love her. So this should be good right? Two people, after years apart finding each other again, loving each other, it’s a nice idea, and if Zachary believed in a happy ending for him and Will, this could be them. Even if they don’t work out now, if they go home and fuck up, maybe in a couple of years maybe when Zachary has figured out how to accept this side of him, maybe then. When they aren’t on the same team anymore. Maybe they can fall back in love, like Will’s parents did?

But Will isn’t happy. Will doesn’t think it’s sweet. Will looks like it makes him sick.

“You okay?” Zachary whispers quietly even though the answer is obvious in Will’s face. He is not okay. _Something_ here is very much not okay.

“She wasn’t a woman.” Will says quietly but firmly. He’s still staring at his plate, but when all eyes turn to look at him, he looks up too, “She was- Mom, you were a _girl_.”

“Will please…” Will’s mom says, the pleading expression back in her sad eyes, but Will doesn’t budge. He meets her gaze with unknown coldness in his. Then he turns back to his father.

“She was fourteen.” He says, spits it almost like a curse. “Mom was fourteen fucking years old when you met her. A damn child. And what were you, huh? 27? 28? Do you even remember?”

“Will, please!” his mom repeats, this time with more urgency, more desperation, “Honey, don’t- We were, we were in love, your dad and I, we were-“ her eyes flit over to Zachary when Will’s stony expression doesn’t change, “We were in love. I know how it sounds, but-“

Will snorts, a cold and brittle laugh that doesn’t quite fit the underlying sadness Zachary can see in his eyes. All Zachary can do is stare, at Will at his mom and the somewhat amused expression on his father’s face, at Michael who hasn’t move an inch since his father had made him sit back down.

He feels a little sick too. Fourteen is _young_. He remembers being fourteen and feeling grown up more than anything but now, now he’s twenty and fourteen is a child, like Will has said. Emma will be fourteen in two years and Zachary cannot, does not want to imagine her with men, not his own age and sure as hell not almost 30. This feels a little like a joke, like they’ve jumped into some badly scripted crime doku soap, except that no one is laughing. Not genuinely at least.

“In love?” Will echoes and never once has Zachary heard that word so disparingly from Will’s mouth. It sounds so wrong. “Of course. Sure, you were. Which is why, of course, when he got you pregnant that same year, he forced you to have an abortion. And then when you were seventeen, pregnant again, with me, he almost beat you to death because you refused to kill your baby again. And then-“

Will cuts himself off, his gaze flickering to Zachary for a second and he can tell that Will didn’t mean to say all this, not out loud, not in front of Zachary, he’s angry, so angry and also desperate in a way that Zachary still doesn’t get but his words, his words weren’t meant for Zachary’s ears. It’s another puzzle piece, one that fits and doesn’t fit at the same time.

The picture Will’s words paint, it doesn’t fit what Zachary has seen just a moment ago, the love with which his parents look at each other, the tenderness in his father’s voice when he called her the most beautiful woman. It doesn’t fit the story of a teenage girl and the grown up man who knocks her up and then forces her to abort the child, beats her up and leaves her eventually. Or maybe she ran? Zachary can’t remember what Will said, those days ago in the living room, when he said his parents had been split up the first year of Will’s life, only getting back together and marrying later.

That’s where it fits, being broken up, Will’s father not being in the picture where Will’ mom holds baby Will. Will saying his father hated him even before he had been born. That fits, it fits too well and yet Zachary can’t quite grasp it.

“Aunt Tara told me.” Will adds after a few moments of silence, almost like an afterthought, quietly, with his eyes cast down, but voice determined.

 “Your dear aunt, should know better than to run her whore mouth about things she doesn’t understand.” Will’s father snarls, “And so should you, son.”

Zachary can see Will swallowing. He looks a little like he does when he finds himself alone in the enemy jungle with his flash down after an unintendedly risky play.

“Screw you.” He hisses under his breath, the bitterness basically dripping from the words. His eyes stay cast downwards though and when Zachary looks down he sees Will has his fingers dug into his thigh, so hard it must hurt.

His father’s expression is unreadable, “Come again?” he says.

Zachary doesn’t know why, but he holds his breath for a moment, for the long long split second until Will bites his lip, bringing out a “Nothing.” Through gritted teeth.

“I thought so.” His father says and Zachary feels the intense urge to throw his fork at the guy. He looks like he’s going to say more, but Will’s mom speaks first.

She puts on a smile that looks familiar, like the one she wore that first day in the hallway, when Will and his father had stared at each other, Will asking, in this blank voice ‘what is he doing here, mom.’ . It makes a little more sense now.

“Frank,” she whispers, “You promised. You promised to be nice. For me. Frank, please.”

Will’s father seems to consider it for a moment, then he turns to face his wife, an apologetic smile on his lips, “You are right, Jackie. I did promise. And I’m sorry. Fetch me some whiskey? Please?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering back and forth between Will and her husband. “Baby, don’t you-“ she tries to smile but it doesn’t quite work, “What about another beer? Yes?”

“If I wanted a beer, I’d ask for one, wouldn’t I?” Will’s father snaps and for the first time Zachary sees him regarding his wife with the cold calculating expression he seems to have reserved for Will usually, “Now go get me my whiskey, Jackie. I don’t care where you hid it. This is my house and what’s in it belongs to me.”

She scrambles to her feet, hurrying into the kitchen and Zachary remembers the sink cup board, behind the cleaning utensils, where Will had pulled the bottle from when they had went out. Will doesn’t move, doesn’t show any reaction apart from the slight tremor in his hand. He has his jaw clenched, eyes focused on his plate and the food he hasn’t touched in the past 5 minutes. All Zachary wants to do is take Will’s hand and get out of here, this situation, whatever is happening, whatever family issues are unfolding in front of Zachary’s eyes right now, he doesn’t want them, or rather he doesn’t want them for Will, Will who looks like he’s either going to throw up are start yelling any second, who has so much untold history with him, so many things he’s never told Zachary, _chosen_ to never tell. And regardless of how that makes Zachary feel, it has been Will’s choice and if Will never meant for Zachary to even meet his dad he sure as hell ever meant for Zachary to witness _this._

Zachary shouldn’t be here, but neither should Will.

Then Will’s mom is back. She’s got a half filled whiskey glass in her hand which she places in front of her husband who pulls her in for a short kiss as a ‘thank you’ apparently. But this time it doesn’t seem sweet and warm and loving to Zachary. It seems wrong.

She sits back down and again neither of them say anything but when the silences stretches on for too long and Zachary can see Will’s dad opening his mouth again, probably ready for another comment that is going to offend Will in some unexpected way, Zachary decides to break the silence.

“So, uh” he’s not really good at this, but he hopes if he’s able to stir the conversation in a different more harmless direction, they’ll be able to get through this dinner without adding to the already present tension. “It’s kinda funny that… that your name is Jackie.” He tries, smiling at Will’s mom who shoots him a grateful glance in return, “Because…well, I don’t know if Will told you, but our manager’s name is Jack. And that’s…that’s kinda similar and-“

“Manager?” Will’s father cuts in, raising one eyebrow, “What do you need a manager for?” he’s talking to the both of them but his eyes are only on Will, who refuses to look up.

“Their video game thing.” Will’s mom says quickly before Will or Zachary can answer, “They are on a team, don’t you remember? I showed you the picture from when they won that trophy.”

“Ah.” Will’s father tilts his head, eying Zachary in a way, that makes Zachary feel even smaller, “You do that too, Zachary?”

Zachary nods hesitantly, “Yeah, it’s… it’s how we met.”

He wants to bite his tongue as soon as the words are out, it feels like he just made himself strangely vulnerable. Will practically flinches at his words, or rather at the way his father smiles at that and Zachary doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get any of this, there’s something happening over his head here, some silent conversation, coded with information he just doesn’t have, but he remembers the betrayed look on Will’s face when his mom had told him she had been in contact with his father over the past years and Will, Will had asked her, his voice so strained like he was trying not to cry or to scream, ‘And it never occurred to you why I might not want that?’.

Will doesn’t want his father to know anything about him and Zachary is beginning to understand why. And yet he just spilled a tiny piece of personal information in an attempt to ease the tension. He just fucked up more. He can see it in Will’s father’s face.

“Is that so?” he asks, leaning back and taking a sip from his whiskey, “So tell me, did you drop out of university too? Just like-” he makes a disregarding gesture in Will’s direction, before taking another gulp. “I’m just curious, what’s your excuse? Stupidity? Or laziness?

“Excuse me?” Zachary asks.

“Frank,” Will’s mom pleads again, but he ignores her.

“With Will it’s stupidity, that’s obvious. Not that he would have graduated anyway, waste of space and money, right?” He says off handedly, gazing at Will like he’s daring him to speak up, to snap again like earlier but Will refuses to look at his dad, to look anywhere but his plate. “Hey, I’m talking to you kid.” He snaps his fingers in front of Will’s face causing Will too flinch but not look up. Will’s dad chuckles, “Fine,” he turns back to Zachary, “So Zachary, what is it? Are you stupid, or lazy? Or both or is there an enticing third option that lead you to the choice of not becoming a valuable member of this society but instead sit in front of a computer all day, playing a kids game, like a-”

Only then Will finds the courage to look up, to look his father in the eyes.

“Don’t talk to him like that.” Will finds himself whispering, his voice just a little bit shaky but at least he manages to hold his father’s gaze, to not back down despite those eyes making him feel like a child again, like a scared, hurting child.

“What?” his father says, mockingly, “I didn’t hear you, kid. You gotta speak LOUDER.”

Will starts back at the sudden volume and from the corner of his eye he can see his mom doing the same. But of course she does nothing, says nothing. He hasn’t expected anything else.

“I said,” Will says, slowly, forcing his voice to be as even as he can, “I said, don’t talk to him like that.”

His father scoffs, finishing his glass of whiskey with one last go “Zachary and I are just having a friendly conversation. One that you chose not to be a part of. So don’t be rude. And don’t take it so personal, kid.”

“It is personal if you are insulting my boyfriend.” Will says quietly, his heart beating to his throat. He doesn’t know what is going to happen, he doesn’t know where this is going, what his father is going to go next, he knows what he would have done seven years ago, he knows how this scene would have ended, but he’s not fifteen anymore and it isn’t just them, it isn’t just a family thing right this moment, because Zachary, god, Zachary is here, Zachary is seeing this, hearing this. Will wishes them far away, wishes none of this would have happened, wishes he could rewind and restart, have him and Zachary not attend this dinner, or not say all those things he said, baited in by his father, to rail him up, to get him going. Everything is a trap, everything is loaded, everything will hurt you, Will knows that, he knew that, he should, he shouldn’t-

He can’t breathe; he’s looking at the smug grin on his father’s face and the confusion and worry on Zachary’s and he can’t _breathe._

“He’s my boyfriend, dad.” Will whispers, and he half expects his father to smash the empty whiskey glass against his face, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even throw it at him. His fingers just tighten around the glass and if Will wasn’t programmed on watching every little move of his father, he wouldn’t even notice.

“Boyfriend.” His dad, repeats saying the word like a slur, like it’s a rotten piece of meat in his mouth, “You think I could forget that? That he’s your boyfriend? My son tongue fucking this boy’s face in front of my house, the house I paid for? The house you ungrateful brat took from me?”

Will closes his eyes for a moment, recalling those perfect moments in front of the house, Zachary in his arms, admitting bashfully that yes he was nervous, them kissing, them touching, smiling and then-

He opens his eyes again and there his father is, teeth bared in a predator like smile, his words like venom.

“Yes, I kissed my boyfriend.” Will reaches for Zachary’s hand under the table, daring to squeezing it for a short moment, “Is that a problem?” he turns to his mom, “Mom, is that a problem?”

“Of course not, sweetie.” His mom says quickly, desperately. He can see the plea in her eyes, begging him to let it go, to just keep quiet, let his dad mock and taunt and not react. She wants this to work she wants things to be good, he knows she does and he knows she believes his father has changed, she has said so, but she also fears, somewhere in this messed up head of hers that he hasn’t and that this is going to escalate. Looking at her, Will finds himself wishing that she’s right and he is wrong. That his dad is just talk now, nothing more, just hurtful words, not crossing the line. That would be nice.

“Is me kissing my boyfriend a problem for you?” he repeats holding his father’s hateful glare.

“Will,” Zachary whispers, tugging at Will’s sleeves, eyes wide and lips pressed into a tight line. He shakes his head, “Don’t.”

Will has no idea what Zachary is thinking right now, of Will, of Will’s family. He would feel embarrassed, ashamed even if he had any room for those emotions right now. He’s sorry, sorry that he brought Zachary here, pulled him into this, made him witness this, submitted him to his father’s spiteful comments. He’s sorry, but he can’t take any of it back right now. What has happened has happened. There’s nothing either of them can do.

“Yeah, _don’t_ , Will.” His father mimics in a mockingly high voice that has Zachary blush and look down, “Listen to your little friend.”

“Boyfriend.” Will snaps, trying to focus on the anger and the hurt instead of the fear he’s feeling. He hates his father, he hates him so much and that hasn’t changed over the last years, whatever TV-shows and books and whatever tell you about letting go of anger, forgiving your abuser, all that crap, Will has never done that. It’s like he told Zachary, his father doesn’t deserve forgiveness and the truth is Will doesn’t need it. This anger is good, it’s familiar, it makes him feel a little more in control. He’s not a kid anymore. He’s grown up. He’s an adult, with a life and friends and a job and a _boyfriend_. His father hadn’t been able to take that from here. He might be here now, treating Will like the child he once was but while his father rotted in prison for the better part of a decade Will got to live his life, he got to overcome what his father did to him. Got his real first kiss, his real first time, his real life. Got to fall in love. He got it all and no matter how vile his father might be looking at him now, he can’t take that away from him. Not now, not ever.

“Get it right, dad.” Will spits, gripping the edge of the table. “Zachary is my boyfriend, whether you like it or not. And I kiss him. Wherever the fuck I want. And there’s _nothing_ you can do about that. And you know what? It’s good. It’s so fucking good. But guess what’s even better? When he fucks me. Yeah that’s right. And I fucking love it. I love it, I love him. You tried so hard to ruin me but-“

The loud crash of his father’s glass and plate shattering on the ground cuts him off and his first instinct is to shield his eyes, but there’s nothing being thrown at him. His dad has smashed his dishes to the floor with one sweep of his arm and is now glaring at Will with undisguised hatred and revulsion. His mom is looking down, Michael has his eyes closed and face turned away. Only Zachary seems genuinely shocked, frozen in place, staring at both Will and his father.

“You shut your mouth, kid.” Will’s father spits, getting out of his chair so quickly it almost falls over. Will only has to close his eyes to recall the countless of times that statement has been followed by a threat.

“No, you shut your mouth!” Will yells and before he knows it, he’s standing too. He’s not a kid anymore. He’s not. He’s not. He’s not. “You shut your fucking mouth and apologize to Zachary.”

Zachary gives Will a tiny panicked head shake, “Will, no it’s okay, it’s-“

It’s not. It’s not okay. It’s unreal how not okay this whole situation is. But there’s not much Will can do about that, but he can say that it’s not okay the way his father talked to Zachary, to him yes, within the family, yes, that’s… that’s not okay either, but it’s normal. But Zachary, Zachary doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve Will’s father to spit on him, to confirm him in his internalized ideas that him being with Will, kissing him, being his boyfriend, is wrong. _That_ is not okay.

“No.” Will says stubbornly. “Apologize to my boyfriend, dad.”

“I’m not apologizing to a cocksucking faggot.” Will’s father says and even though Will hasn’t expected anything less it still stings a little. His mom lets out a sob, hiding her face behind her hands and Michael, Michael still doesn’t move. When he was younger and things got bad with Will and his dad, Will’s mom used to take little Michael by the hand, go upstairs with him and read to him in his room until the storm had blown over. A part of him wonders if she’s going to do that now.

Then his father’s fist hits his face.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

In a way, Will sees the hit coming, but at the same time it catches him completely off guard. He knows better than to trust, least of all his father, he knows better than to hope. He knows what the man in front of him is capable of, what he’s done, what he’s done to Will, and yet, there had been this tiny flicker of childish stubborn naivety inside his mind, that has had lead Will to believe that _this_ was over, was not going to happen again. He has mocked his mother for believing in his dad having changed, in him being a better person and the family being able to make things work, but when his father’s fist connects with his face, Will realizes that a tiny part of him had believed in it too.

_Stupid._

Will stumbles backwards, his ears ringing more with shock than with pain. He’s taken harder hits, but he’s no longer used to it, doesn’t manage to take it in a way that lessens the impact, that makes it easier to keep his balance, that allows him to not lose his footing like he does now. He brings a hand up to his mouth where he knows he’ll feel a cut. He knows, even before he tastes the blood, that his lower lips is split and he can already feel a bruise forming, pain blooming where his father hit him. The dull, pulsing ache is more than familiar and yet he stares at the red on his fingertips for what feels like endless seconds, when really it can’t be more than the blink of an eye.

Distantly he recognizes that he’s lucky that his father aimed for the lower half of his face. Will prefers that over cheekbone bruises. Or bleeding eyebrows. At least like this he doesn’t have to worry about having to replace his glasses and having to replace them would suck. He’s forgotten his second pair at the gaming house.

The gaming house. How many days are left until he returns? Will it be enough time for the bruise to fade? What if it doesn’t? He could say he got into a fight. With Michael, maybe? Brother’s fight, right? He could say he fell. Or was particularly clumsy opening a door. Or drunk. He’s got so many excuses. He just has to remember them, pick which fits best, but his brain feels sluggish, dizzy, overwhelmed with what just happened and that too is _stupid, stupid, stupid._ He should have known, he should have seen, he should have-

There’s distant yelling, Will realizes, when he looks up from his hand. His mom? His dad? No. It’s Zachary. Zachary is yelling. And _oh, oh god_. Zachary is here. Zachary saw this, Zachary _knows-_

Zachary is standing in front of Will, between Will and his father and he’s screaming, something, he’s looking back and forth between him and his dad and he looks absolutely panicked and shocked and –

“What the hell? What the fuck? Shit, what the-” Zachary’s eyes are frantic and it’s obvious that he has even less idea how to act than Will. It’s a stark contrast to the blank expression on Michael’s face, the way he’s turned slightly away, lips pressed into a tight line, while silent tears roll down his mother’s cheeks. Will would feel sorry for her, the crushed hope and sadness carved into her features, if he was capable of feeling anything through this layer of numbness that is rapidly spreading over his skin. And it doesn’t feel fair anyway, that he’s the one having to feel sorry.

Sorry and guilty.

“Will, what the fuck? Will-” Zachary’s voice has a high pitched tremor to it that Will has never heard from him before, he’s never seen this kind of bewilderment in his gaze either. Something about it snaps him back, back to full volume, full attendance, reality. Right here, right now. His father just hit him in the face. His father is standing right there, right there in front of him. And Zachary is between them.

Before Will can say anything, can move, the growling voice of his father makes him freeze.

“Are you done, Will?” He asks, eyebrows raised, gaze cold and unforgiving, “Are you done throwing a tantrum? Are you done forcing us all to let the wonderful meal your mother stood hours in the kitchen for get cold? Are you done acting like a whiny little bitch?”

Will hates this, he hates him, hates his mom, hates the whole world. He makes it sound like this is all Will, like Will did this, Will provoked him, Will _made_ him lose control. Will has heard it all before and it’s wrong, it’s so wrong, he knows that, rationally. But the shame bubbling up in his chest, colouring his cheeks red and forcing him to cast his eyes downwards, tells him differently.

Will _knows_ it’s not his fault. It just doesn’t feel like it.

He doesn’t have the words, his mind suddenly feeling void of any possible reply so all he does in response is spitting some of the blood from his mouth on the floor, licking his tongue over the stinging cut, without making eye contact.

“That a no?” Will’s father says and Will can practically feel the malice dripping from his voice. “Then better get out of my face.”

 _Before I break your neck._ Will doesn’t need his father to spell it out. And neither does his mom.

“Frank!” she’s up now, her skinny hands reaching for her husband, pressing into his chest as if she’s ever managed to push him back before. “Please, baby, he didn’t mean it. He didn’t!” she throws a glance over her shoulder giving Will something that is probably meant to be an encouraging smile, but it’s more pleading and desperate than anything else. “Right, Will? Honey?”

Will doesn’t answer. Not because his throat is tight that he feels like he can barely breathe or because his feels like a horrible leap back in time, where nothing has changed and everything is the same. Nothing has changed. He never got out, it never ended. His mom doesn’t love him. Not enough at least. He doesn’t answer because before he can, his father does.

“The kid has no respect, Jackie!” He spits, “You heard how he talks to me, he has no respect, no-“

“Fuck you.”

For a second Will doesn’t know who’s spoken. For a second he thinks it must have been him. But it hasn’t. It’s Zachary, Zachary who appears a little shocked by his own words too. He looks incredibly pale, like he’s about to throw up maybe, and Will wouldn’t blame him. Zachary doesn’t get any of this, and he hasn’t been prepared for it. That’s Will’s fault too. He’s brought Zachary here, he let Zachary be in the same house as his father, has let him bear witness to this. It’s his fault. His fault. His father is right, Will shouldn’t have talked to him that way, should have swallowed his anger, should have kept his head down, should have-

Will’s father’s eyes snap to Zachary, “What did you say?”

Will’s blood runs cold. Zachary doesn’t _know_. Will doesn’t have that excuse, he provoked his father despite knowing what he’s capable of, what he’s done. For all Zachary knows this could be a first time thing, he could think that Will’s father won’t do it again, hasn’t done it before. Zachary doesn’t know. He might, he could- Will’s head is swimming with thoughts and he doesn’t have the brain capacity right now to really think through what Zachary could have taken from the scene that has just played out, but he knows that if Zachary says the wrong thing now-

“What the hell is wrong with you? What-” Zachary shakes his head, shooting another glance at Will, before fumbling for his phone in his pocket, “I’m-”

Will and his mom spring into action at the same time, Will pulls Zachary backwards by his shirt, causing Zachary to stumble in surprise, but it allows Will to get himself between Zachary and his dad and at the same time stops Zachary in his tracks. His mom brings her hands up to Zachary’s shoulders, rubbing them up and down his arms in a somewhat comforting manner but Zachary still looks more than a little freaked out. For a split second the realization that this, this pure shock and bewilderment, this utter lack of understanding and capability to read the situation, this is how it’s supposed to be, is in the forefront of Will’s mind. _This_ is the appropriate reaction.

“Zachary, sweetie,” His mom says, her voice soft, despite the obvious unease in her eyes, in the way she holds herself, “Why don’t you…take Will upstairs, yeah? I’ll bring you two some food later. Maybe we can order a pizza? Wouldn’t that be nice? I think that would be good. Mikey, please give your brother some frozen peas for his face. And go upstairs too.” She doesn’t turn, when she addresses Michael, just keeps her gaze fixed on Zachary and Will would love to believe that it’s purely out of worry, her caring because she can tell that this is something Zachary doesn’t know how to handle, something that freaks him out. But there’s the nagging thought that the main reason, the main motivation for her being so motherly warm and caring to Zachary now, is that she fears what Zachary will do with that phone if she doesn’t diffuse the situation.

“Boys, please.” She says urgently, giving first Michael, than Will a hopeful half-smile. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Jackie-” Will’s father growls, but she interrupts him with a sudden flash of firmness in her voice that Will barely recognizes.

“Frank, you promised!”

Before she can say anything else or his father react, Will feels a pack of frozen peas being pressed into his hand and Michael wordlessly slips past him, quickly making his way to the stairs. The room is suddenly awfully quiet and Will knows it’s time to go. They need to go upstairs. They have to. _He_ has to.

“Go,” he whispers to Zachary, tugging at his shirt until Zachary looks at him, still wide-eyed and chalky. “Go, c’mon. C’mon.”

The living room door doesn’t fall shut before they make it halfway up the stairs and Will is glad, because all he hears is silence and while he doesn’t know what to make of that it seems better than his mom screaming. He doesn’t get to think about it for long though.

“Why did you do that?” Michael snaps at Will as soon as Zachary and he make it up the stairs. He’s standing at the top of the stairs, jaw set tight and a certain type of anger that Will only knows to well visible in his eyes. He’s scared.

“Do what?” Will says, like he doesn’t already know what Michael is referring to, like it isn’t already weighing on his shoulders, heavy with the silence they left behind downstairs, pulsating like the blood in his bruised lip.

“Provoke him like this!” Michael looks at him like he wants to shove Will, wants to let his anger and fear out somehow, but he just curls his hands into fists at his sides, glaring at Will with his lips quivering, “You know what he’s gonna-  You know mom-”

Will doesn’t remember how it is to see his brother cry. He wonders if Michael will do it now. If he’s so overwhelmed, so scared. If knowing what their dad will probably do to their mom now, because of Will being so stupid, if that’s what’s killing him, knowing that he can’t do anything. Will honestly doesn’t know how much Michael remembers, how much he took with him from the time before their dad went to prison. He’s not sure how much it has affected – still affects - Michael. He knows he’s a shit brother for that but he’s been too busy with himself, with his own pain to ever think about Michael’s much. It’s obvious now though, that Michael has carried a lot of this time, of his father with him. Just like Will.

It makes the guilt in Will’s stomach raise its ugly head. It’s not just himself that he pulls down with him. It’s Michael and his mom and-

“Fuck you.” Michael hisses, wiping his sleeve over his eyes furiously, “You piss off again in a couple of weeks anyway. It’s great that you don’t give a shit, but this is my life, Will! I have to live with him!”

Will presses his lips together, swallowing, “Mom said you are living with Aunt Tara. You’ll-“

_Be fine. You’ll be fine. Mom will be fine. Things are going to be fine. They have to be. Please._

Michael gives him a look that is nothing short of disbelieving, disbelieving how stupid Will is. It hurts more than Will thought it would, having his little brother seizing him with such disregard. It doesn’t matter that it’s most likely born out of fear and pain. It still stings.

“That’s just on fucking paper.” Michael spits “So he could move back in here.”

Oh.

Of course. It makes sense. Will should have- Michael is right Will should have figured that out. His mom would never let Michael move out, let her child live away from her. That’s her idea of love. But she would do everything to get her husband back too. So she had to work around some laws. Even after serving his sentence, after being released out of prison Will’s father is still a required to obey the restrictions the state of Virginia puts on registered sex offenders. He’s not allowed to be within a certain range of kindergartens, schools, playgrounds, not allowed to live near or with former victims or other minors. Will looked that up once, a couple of years back.

Will is registered as a resident of the state of California. He’s just visiting. He doesn’t live here. His presence isn’t an obstacle. But Michael, Michael is a problem; Will’s dad wouldn’t be allowed to live in the same house as him. Because Michael is a child in front of the law. And Will’s dad is a child rapist.

But Michael is no longer a resident of this house. Not on paper at least. Apparently his mom has found a loophole.

“If you-” Will clears his throat, trying to talk around the sharp edges in his throat, “If you tell Aunt Tara that- She’d let you stay with her for real. She understands. She would-”

“I’m not moving a car hour away! This is my home! I go to school here, my friends are here, my girlfriend is here, this is my life!” Michael half yells and even though the volume isn’t nowhere close to frightening and his tone, not the slightest bit like their father’s, Will still flinches back, he can’t help it. It’s a stupid reflex but he’s overly tense right now, on edge, hair trigger, whatever.

“What do you want from me?” Will whispers, trying hard to keep his voice as even as possible. Things were so great today and now he feels like falling without knowing how far the ground is.

“I want you to not make him fucking angry.” Michael demands.

Will shakes his head, biting his lip so the cut in his lip sends a sharp sting through the dull ache the bruise has him feeling. “I don’t make him angry, he _is_ angry.”

“Yeah. And you knew that and you still-” Michael clenches his jaw, crossing and uncrossing his arms like he doesn’t know what to do with them, “Before you came back it was okay! Dad was okay. Mom was happy. Things were okay. And now you are here and-”

“Screw you, Michael.” Will hisses back, biting back the guilt he can feel rising higher in his throat, telling him that Michael is _right, right, right._ “You could have told me he would be here. Mom could have told me. You know I wouldn’t have come if one of you had just fucking told me, so screw you. Screw all of you.”

The first time since they started this stairwell conversation Michael is the one looking guilty. Still sad and angry and scared, but also… guilty. And Will knows it’s wrong but seeing someone else feel guilty for once gives him a false sense of pardon.

“We wanted you to come. Mom said it would be fine. We missed you.” Michael argues, sounding a little meeker now. But only for a moment. “But mom, she missed dad too. You know she did. And she finally got him back and now you are screwing it up for her again. That’s not fair. She’s-”

“Stop!” Suddenly there is Zachary’s voice, Zachary speaking, Zachary telling Michael to stop and maybe Will shouldn’t be so surprised but his deception, his awareness must be off, because he almost forgot Zachary is witness to this conversation too.

“What the fuck.” Zachary says but he’s not glaring at Will, his eyes are fixed on Michael, “Will is not screwing up anything. Your dad- he…he fucking punched him! He _punched_ him.”

For a moment Michael looks as surprised as Will feels, like he too forgot that it’s not just them right now, not just their fucked up little family that is all too used to having these kind of talks. Michael must realize it in this moment, Zachary a blatant reminder, that this is not normal, that _they_ are not normal. It’s easy to forget sometimes. He opens and closes his mouth, maybe trying to figure out what he can say, what he should say, how to deal with his anger when there’s an outsider present. He takes a moment too long and Will manages to regain a bit of control back, enough to get his body to move, mechanically turning around to flee to his room, tugging Zachary along, removing himself from the conversation that is hurting too much right now. He’s a runner. He’s never had many opportunities to run apart from inside his mind, and he never gets far physically, but closing the door between himself and Zachary and the rest of the house still makes breathing a little easier.

Inhaling, exhaling. Will lets his head fall back against the door, taking a moment just to breathe. Zachary by some miracle stays quiet. But not for long. After a few seconds, moments, minutes, maybe more, Will doesn’t know, Zachary’s voice erases the silence.

“Will…” is all he says but his voice is so heavy with emotion that Will can barely bear it. It’s too much. He doesn’t know what to do, how to do this, how to talk, explain, keep secret, protect, shield, he doesn’t-

“I’m-” Will says slowly, having to concentrate on actually talking out loud, getting his heavy tongue to obey, “I’m sorry you had to see this. I didn’t…I didn’t mean for you to get exposed to this.”

He knows that it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as he hears Zachary’s sharp intake of breath. When he opens his eyes, he sees Zachary sitting on the bed, hugging a pillow staring at Will with wide eyes. He can practically see the wheels turning.

“Will, he hit you.” Zachary says carefully, “Your dad hit you. How are _you_ sorry? That’s not- We call the police, right? That’s what we are gonna do.” he pauses searching for something in Will’s face that he doesn’t seem to find, “Right, Will?” he repeats.

Will wishes he could just nod, he knows he should, but there’s so much more to this, so much that’s keeping him from saying ‘yes’, from giving Zachary the answer of a reasonable human being, but instead he shakes his head, not trusting his voice. Zachary doesn’t get how engraved it is in Will’s mind that _this_ doesn’t leave the family, how conditioned he has been against talking about it, how deep-rooted his aversion against getting help, alarming authorities all that, goes. He has no idea and it makes Will mad that he is aware of all this, knows how wrong he is for just accepting it, following the rules like the kid he used to be, but he just cannot not do it. He can’t and he doesn’t know how to explain that. How to justify , that he had put dying on the scoring board of options before talking to the police because it was the only out his fucked up mind had allowed him to truly consider.

“Why not??” Zachary has his phone in hand, but he hasn’t dialled yet, is still waiting for Will, staring at him with questions upon questions in his eyes. “This is fucked up.”

“Because-“ Will can hear his own voice break as he drops to his knees in front of Zachary who’s still sitting on the bed. He fumbles Zachary’s phone out of his hands, it’s surprisingly easy and it speaks for how shell-shocked Zachary still is, “Just don’t. It’s- You heard Michael. Mom and dad- It’s-”

“I heard Michael talking a lot of bullshit.”

“He’s upset! He doesn’t mean to hurt me.” Will finds himself snapping, the sudden urge to defend Michael surfacing seemingly out of nowhere. Zachary doesn’t get why Michael is like this, why Will is like this. It’s not fair that he can judge them. Even if he’s right, even if Will _know_ s he’s right.

But maybe in a way Michael is too. And Michael has the right to be angry, Will just isn’t used to it anymore, but that doesn’t mean Zachary should-

“Yeah, he’s upset.” Zachary says and instead of snapping back he sounds… sad?

The tone of his voice has Will frowning, he expected backlash, Zachary calling him out giving him something to fight against but Zachary’s face tells him different story.

“He’s upset. But he’s…” Zachary licks his lips, like he’s giving himself time to figure out the right words, “Will, he’s not shocked. Or surprised. And neither is your mom. Or you.” It almost sounds like an accusation. In a way, Will guesses it is. Zachary has figured out that there is something Will should have told him.

Zachary slides off the bed, sitting down on the floor next to Will, drawing his legs in and tugging at the hems of his jeans before he’s looking at Will again.

“Will…your dad hitting you, it didn’t happen the first time just now, did it?”

“No.” Will croaks out, deciding then and now that at least this he can say, it’s not- It’s not too bad. There are… these things happen. Zachary must know that. Physical abuse is not that rare. It’s ugly and horrible and it shouldn’t happen, but it does, so it’s okay. He can say it. It’s not too much, Will has to believe that, because Zachary has already figured it out, seen too much, heard too much. If he lies now, Zachary will know. He just… has to bend the truth a bit. Modify it. “It… it did happen before.” He admits.

“Fuck.” Zachary runs a hand through his hair, taking a shaky breath before his gaze returns to Will. Behind his glasses his eyes look almost a little teary. “Will… he beat you? Like- regularly? Like this was a thing? This is why your mom and he broke up, why he was away? Because he-”

Zachary looks horrified and Will finds himself backpedalling quickly. Maybe it’s too much, maybe beating is too much in itself already. Fuck, his judgement is off. “No, no. It wasn’t a thing. Not a thing thing. It’s not- not important.”

Because it’s not. That’s not a lie. It was a thing, but just a minor matter, not something that Will really- It’s not the beating Will still carries with him. Or maybe it is but he doesn’t realize it as much. He means it when he says it’s not important. It just hurts, it’s physical ache that fades eventually. It stops. It’s visible, bruises are visible. And they fade. Eventually they fade. If Will had had to choose, he’d chosen the beating any day.

Again Zachary is giving him that stare, like Will is crazy. It makes him want to hide. But also fight. Defend himself. Because he can. With Zachary, with words, he can.

“Of course it’s fucking important, Will. You tell me not to call the police after your dad punches you and then you tell me it was a regular thing and that it’s not important?” he shakes his head, “Will what the fuck?”

It almost sounds accusing, or maybe that’s just Will’s mind, but suddenly the few inches between them feel like miles and the worst thing it’s Will’s fault. He’s mad at Zachary for not understanding and at the same time he’s actively chosen to not ever explain anything to Zachary, because he was scared this exactly might happen, them, with fractions of Will’s past accumulating between them.

Will forces his voice down, trying to sound less emotional, calmer, a bit detached, anything that allows him to keep the trembling at bay, “It wasn’t a regular thing.” He says and it almost doesn’t feel like a lie.

“It wasn’t?”

“My dad he…” Will swallows. He needs to find some sort of middle ground, between giving Zachary answers and not revealing too much, “He likes to drink. You saw that. And he’s… you know how there are different types of drunk people? Like you are touchy, Lemon is black out, Hai is funny, and so on? Well, my dad is the angry kind… And I kinda have a talent for making him angry.”

He tries to laugh, even cracks a smile, because it seems to be there right call even though it makes him feel a little nauseous. He feels erratic, bouncing from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other, he feels angry and scared, he wants to lash out, wants to be comforted, wants to be honest and at the same time lie until he himself forgets the truth.

“How are you so chill about this?” Zachary asks, complete and utter bewilderment written on his face.

 _I’m not chill_ , Will almost argues, because he’s not, sure it was just one hit, just a split lip, just a simple bruise, nothing more, not something else, so it’s not important but Will is not chill, he’s freaked out, he feels so fragile and brittle, like a frightened kid even though he knows better. He doesn’t say it though, instead he forces a few calming breaths in and out of his lungs, hoping in vain for an epiphany of what to say, of how to fix this, “Michael is right. I did provoke him. You heard it. I shouldn’t have done that. I say he’s angry but…” Will pauses, “But so am I.”

“Bullshit. Provoked?” Zachary hisses and now he actually sounds a little bit mad, Will’s just not sure at whom, “Your dad isn’t supposed to hit you no matter what you say.”

For a second neither of them say anything. The words just hang heavy between them. It’s not like Will doesn’t know that or doesn’t agree to some extent, the rational part of his mind does. He worked through this, he learned that he was or is a victim, that there was no justification for what his father has done, but his emotions sometimes still, especially now with everything brought back up, aren’t on the same page as his mind. They are still laced with all those years of him being convinced of his own fault, and right now it feels so much easier to give in, to listen to them, not Zachary and his mind. Getting angry, lashing out, is _easier._

Sometimes Will worries he got that from his father too.

His mouth twitches, “Oh, so now you are the expert on healthy parent-child relationships? Since when is that, huh?”

It scares him. It scares him how easy the words come, how it kills the shakiness in his voice and makes it so much easier to pretend, to feel strong and not small anymore. Being mean, angry, hurting Zachary. He can see the flash of hurt in Zachary’s eyes, knows he’s hit a nerve. That’s the thing; if you know somebody, you know how to hurt them.

“Fuck you, my dad doesn’t hit me, and my mom wouldn’t just let him if he did!” Zachary snaps in response and Will can practically see Zachary’s defences go up. He knows it’s a low blow, but he just can’t stop himself.

“No,” Will says drily, “Your parents just ignore and debase you while harbouring a spitting disinterest for everything you are and do. That is _so_ much better. You are right. You got the picture perfect family but that doesn’t give you the right to shit on mine.”

Zachary just stares at him; lips slightly parted like he has had just the right reply on his lips but somehow lost it before the words could be spoken. He’s hurt, Will can tell, but for the first time there’s something in Zachary’s gaze that tells Will that Zachary is getting a grasp on the fact that maybe family is as much of a sore topic for Will as it is for him. Now it’s just a question of what he chooses to focus on, Will’s or his own family drama. It’s not really fair of Will to throw this at Zachary like this. He knows that Zachary, more often than not, refuses to acknowledge how distant and neglectful his family is in terms of emotional support and what not, so maybe it’s not a good strategy at all, drawing this comparison because to Zachary his family is not abusive.

“I’m not shitting on your family,” eventually Zachary does find his words though, “But Will, your dad beat you and your brother gets mad at you because _you_ are ruining things for your mom?! That is fucked up and you know it!” he shakes his head again, “You know it is.”

It’s kind of funny, in a non-humorous way at all, that Zachary is so adamant about declaring how Will’s parents acted as fucked up, when he can barely put blame on his own parents most of the time for their short comings.

“Yeah.” Will snaps, “ _I_ know. I know, this is my shit. Not yours. Not your fucking problem, not yours to judge or to know or- Just-”

“Just what? Keep out of it?” Zachary presses his lips into a tight line for a moment, “Yeah, no, Will, that’s not how it works. No. You yelled at me just a couple of days ago that I don’t ask questions, and that we need to talk to each other and all that, so don’t tell me now that this is _your_ shit. It’s you and me, remember? Us. We are an us, that’s what you wanted, that’s what you promised. So screw you and start fucking talking to me, because you don’t get to make up rules and then decide they don’t apply to you.”

He sounds so sincere and irritated, for a moment Will doesn’t know how to react. He just gapes at Zachary a little, working on processing that Zachary, his Zachary, who prefers avoidance and the pretence of nonchalance above actually dealing with things, is asking for honesty, for clear communication. It’s almost ironic. Now that Will’s instincts tell him to retreat, to detach himself, Zachary is reaching out. Now that Will would welcome the space and emotional distance Zachary is refusing it. It’s not fair, the timing of this, of everything.

“…My dad was in jail, okay? For the last seven years. ” Will gets out eventually, his voice dripping with defiance and bitterness and in a way he feels like he’s defending himself. Against what he doesn’t know. He just knows that he wants to keep his mouth shut more than anything, but at the same time doing so would make him lose this last grasp of sanity he’s holding onto. “My dad is a fucking criminal. He’s an abusive alcoholic arsehole who got put in jail because of me. I did that. That’s what he meant with forgiving me, with me destroying the family, hurting mom, all that.” Now that he’s started Will can’t stop himself, being angry and letting it out, it’s a rush, a sickening foul kind, but the words just won’t stop coming, “So you don’t have to tell me that I- that my family is fucked up. I know it is. I fucking know, alright? I got the police involved once and my mom wouldn’t stop crying for months because they took my dad away. She doesn’t hate me like he does, but she sure as hell blames me and she’d choose him over me any day. I get to live with knowing that every day. That is my fucking life, my reality. Are you happy now? That’s what you want to hear? Or are you gonna accuse me of making up family issues for attention again? To excuse my shitty behaviour? I’m not. For the record.”

Zachary looks like he’s going to cry. Will isn’t sure it’s because of Will yelling at him, because of the resentful things he has said or because of what Will has disclosed just now. He can’t tell if Zachary is feeling sorry for Will or sorry for himself for getting involved with someone as fucked up as Will.

His lips tremble when he speaks, red from him biting them, “Will, you…you never said anything, you never- You didn’t-”

“Of course, I didn’t!” Will cuts in, briefly wondering if Zachary accusing him for not telling him the truth is worse than the other options, but right now he isn’t sure of anything, least of all his ability to judge people’s reactions. He’s made that mistake one too many times tonight.

“What do you mean ‘of course’?” Zachary retorts, “I’m your best friend. I’m your boyfriend. You should have- I would have-”

“You would have what?” Will finds himself saying with a bitter calmness washing over him all of sudden. He’s not sure of much but he knows this, “I love you, but let’s be honest here, if I had told you, you would have turned on your heels and ran. You don’t want complicated and damaged and fucked up and who would blame you really. You want easy and simple and- I wanted to be that person for you just as much as for me. You were never supposed to see this.”

_Me like this._

_Unravelling._

“Ah,” suddenly there’s a hardness to Zachary’s gaze that hasn’t been there before, he looks a little taken aback, maybe even offended, Will honestly can’t tell. “So you weren’t planning on telling me at all? Never? This really fucking important thing?” Zachary’s jaw clenches and he looks away for a moment, his hands curled into small fists, “Why do you insist on being in love with me if you think I’m such a shitty person, huh? You- you just decided that I wouldn’t want you anymore, if I knew your dad beat you? Fuck you, what the hell do you think of me? I’m in l- I love- I’m not an arsehole! I wouldn’t just run because your family is messed up.”

“I think of you that you never wanted this relationship to begin with. That being with me reminds you every day that you aren’t the person you think you and the world want you to be. And I think that a part of you resents me for that.” Will says, forcing himself to keep eye contact, “I think of you that you’ve been in this relationship with one foot in the door since the day we started, and that is why you went and fucked some girl. Because you don’t have the guts to call it quits yourself.”

A part of Will has hoped Zachary would object, tell Will he’s wrong, show him a side of things that he hasn’t considered yet, but Zachary remains idly silent for just a moment too long and Will finds a hollow, dishonest laugh scratching at the edges of his throat.

“See.” Is all he says. He refrains from telling Zachary that if he wants to call it quits he should just do it, should just get it over with and not pretend for the sake of god knows what. The past days, the happiness, easiness, it feels like a distant dream now, almost mocking. How could he fool himself into thinking this was going to work?

“You are such a coward.” He says instead and god, the look on Zachary’s face is one of pure and utter betrayal. _But then again, so am I,_ is what Will doesn’t say. He doesn’t expect a reply from Zachary, honestly at this point he’d expect a slap across the face and Zachary leaving and not coming back, but what he gets instead is the sound of Zachary sniffling, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, before glancing at Will again, wearing an unreadable expression.

“I slept with her because I-”

“Because what? Because you wanted to prove that you could? Because you needed to feel manly? Or, let me rephrase that, your fucked up idea of what manly means? Or because you got bored with me? Or- Or because-” There’s more, there’s more he could say and it wouldn’t be a lie, it wouldn’t be him making shit up to hurt Zachary, this, these thoughts, they’ve hurt Will ever since he found out about the cheating, some even before that and saying them doesn’t feel good, but it’s something he can tell the truth about at least. Zachary doesn’t let him continue though.

“Because I love you!”

For a second Will’s mind is empty. Then Zachary’s words start sinking in. Never, not in all those months together, not one single time, Will has imagined Zachary telling him he loves him would make him feel like getting stabbed in the back. He almost chokes on the words.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. You fucked some girl, because you love me.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper, because he thinks if he raises the volume just a little he’ll end up screaming.

“I fucked some girl because I love you.” Zachary echoes and to his credit, he looks like the words physically pain him too.

“Can you even imagine how that feels for me?” Will asks quietly, “You saying ‘I love you’ for the first time in the same breath with ‘I fucked some girl’? You love me so you decide to hurt me? That’s just fucking great. You enjoying yourself?”

“No,” Zachary shakes his head frantically, desperately “No, I didn’t fuck Jena to hurt you, I just, I felt lonely and I was realizing how much you meant to me, that I- I panicked because what I feel for you is so much and I-“

Zachary stops rambling when he notices how still Will has become. It’s obvious in the way his eyes widen, in the flash of _something_ , across his face, that he realizes he just fucked up. His mouth claps shut and he looks like he just stabbed himself in the leg.

“Jena?” Will croaks.

Zachary opens and closes his mouth a couple of times but not a sound comes out.

This time Will doesn’t even make an effort to keep his voice even. “Are you fucking serious right now? Jena? Of all people?” he says but the words hold no force to them, he just feels so tired all of sudden, he just wants to curl up and cry for a few hours and forget all about his dad and Zachary and just life in general. But he doesn’t get to do that. He can’t _let_ himself do that, “Of all the girls or guys you could have fucked, it just had to be her?”

His mind takes him back to that one night, over a year ago, him and Jena talking (fighting?) while Zachary was passed out on the bed. Jena revealing that she knew about the affair, calling Will ‘the other girl’, mocking him for wanting a picture perfect ending when he was nothing more than a convenient fuck for Zachary. He remembers the venom and certainty in her voice, promising him that he wouldn’t win, that she wouldn’t _let_ him. He remembers thinking she was right. And then, then things had happened, Zachary and Jena broke up and Will had stuck around and him and Zachary had transitioned from fuckbuddies to boyfriends and he’d thought, he’d honestly thought-

Fuck he feels so stupid now, so incredibly stupid and humiliated. When he found out Zachary cheated he hadn’t thought it could possibly feel worse, but he was wrong, here he is, sitting on his childhood bedroom’s floor, his face throbbing from a hit his father has delivered, tears stinging in his eyes from the hurtful words he spit at his boyfriend and received in return and suddenly it’s so obvious that just like Jena said, Zachary wasn’t his, never would be. No matter what Zachary claimed. He went back to her even if only for a moment. But Jena was right.

And suddenly the bathroom, oh the bathroom, in the damn restaurant, it makes so much more sense now in hindsight. The weird tension between her and Zachary when Will came in, interrupting them. Interrupting them form what? Talking?

 _Some money for the cab?_ She had said, an echo from that night she promised Will she was going to win, a tease, something only Will would get, the words meaning nothing to Zachary or anyone else. It had been her way of laughing at him, of twisting the knife and he hadn’t even realized. She had known, she had known Zachary had cheated on Will with her, and it must have felt so triumphant, finally getting back at Will for sleeping with Zachary when he was still _her_ boyfriend. It would almost be ironic if it didn’t hurt so much.

“What does it matter who it was?” Zachary argues, but in his eyes Will can see that at least to some extent he gets why it matters. Will honestly doesn’t know what he would do if he didn’t. “Why are we even talking about _this_? Your dad-” he, makes some hand gesture into the open room, his hands almost not trembling as he looks back at Will.

“My dad is an arsehole who doesn’t give a shit if he hurts me. Hell, he enjoys it. But you-” Will says, hating how miserable he sounds, “If you really don’t think it matters that it was Jena then-” He swallows, shaking his head, more to himself than to Zachary. How could everything turn to shit in the matter of barely an hour? But then again, things have been shit before and Will just fooled himself into thinking- “I don’t even know. I don’t- Zach, I don’t know.”

“I did it because I was scared of how much I love you. I realize that that’s a shit excuse but-” Zachary buries his flaming face in his hands for a moment and Will has to strain to understand the words he whispers into the gaps between his palms. “But I do. I do love you and I fucked up but you forgave me.” He looks up at Will then, “You forgave me and you don’t get to take that back now just because it was Jena. I fucking love you.”

Will can barely comprehend how much these words burn on his skin, how sick they make him feel when he’s wanted Zachary to say them for so long. It’s wrong. Like this. Now. It just all is so wrong, he doesn’t even know where to begin, “That’s not how love works.”

“Oh but lying to me about your family and keeping huge ass secrets from me is?” Zachary says bitterly but he doesn’t seem to expect a reply because he continues in the same breath, “So what- you don’t love me anymore now? Because I fucked Jena? Gonna call it quits because I’m such a coward? _That_ is not how love works. I know you think you have the monopole in this relationship deciding who feels what and when and how, but that-”

“I still love you.” Will cuts him off, feeling a tear roll down his cheek, “But right now I wish I didn’t.”

 

***

They barely talk for the rest of the evening. Zachary ends up playing league on Will’s computer while Will spends the time icing his face, pointedly _not-thinking_ about anything that occurred over the last few hours. It’s a surprisingly easy habit to fall back into, detaching himself from what his mind doesn’t know how to deal with. Or rather doesn’t want to. Right now there are several things he doesn’t want to deal with and Zachary is at the core of one of them and every now and then Will wonders how Zachary is dealing with today, with having seen Will getting hit, with accidently revealing more about his infidelity, with the fight that followed. Will has no idea if he’s thinking about it, if he’s mulling what happened over in his head or if he chooses avoidance as he’s done so often in the past. Will wouldn’t even blame him this time. It’s what he’s doing himself after all.

In the end, whether or not Zachary is thinking about it, he doesn’t say anything. Now and then Will can feel his eyes on him, but in the end nothing is said or ask, at least not until later.

“Will…” Zachary says again, the darkness around them feeling heavy with Will’s silence. They are lying in Will’s bed as far away from each other as physically possible. Which isn’t much, but it still feels too far and much too close at the same time. Will chooses not to answer, grits his teeth but doesn’t make any effort in faking sleep. It’s a lost cause anyway. He finally got around to cooling his face with the peas but the pain is still there and the thoughts circulating in his mind are even worse. This is familiar too, eventually, his mind _does_ deal with things and at some point Will can’t keep the thoughts at bay any longer so _he_ knows he won’t sleep tonight for more than one reason. That doesn’t however mean that he wants to talk to Zachary. Right now he doesn’t want to talk to anyone, but especially not Zachary. Zachary, who cheated on him and couldn’t even say it, who had to have Will coax it out of him and then had failed to mention that it was his ex-girlfriend, of all people, that he had slept with. Zachary, who’s mad at him for not telling him the half-truth about his father beating him, what little he disclosed earlier. Zachary, who claims he loves Will in a way that made him so desperate that he just had to go and cheat to cope with it.

“Will…” Zachary repeats once more and Will is half inclined to tell him to shut up, but something in the hesitant, cautious way Zachary says his name, makes him halt.

“Did... did your father… abuse you?” Zachary asks quietly and before Will can snap at him, because duh, Will outright referred to his father as an alcoholic abusive arsehole, he continues, voice sounding even more meek than before. It’s barely a whisper, “…sexually, I mean.”

_Oh._

So Zachary has been thinking about it. Will feels like he’s being choked. How? When? Why? How does Zachary- Fuck, fuck. Oh god. He can’t breathe. He has to. He has to act normal, he has to deny, he has to-

Zachary can’t know. No, no, he _doesn’t_ know. He doesn’t. He’s asking. He’s assuming, thinking, turning over in his head what happened today, what Will said- He said too much. He already knew that, but Zachary outright asking, not skirting around it, it’s-

“What?” he breathes out, not turning around. His hands are clutched into fists and he’s sure there’ll be crescent marks in his palms from his fingernails tomorrow.

Zachary clears his throat, shifting behind Will, not touching, but not far away from it either, “I just...” he mumbles sounding not at all sure of himself, “I’ve been thinking about everything and I just thought- You know… there’s… I don’t know but…”

“No.” Will interrupts him, voice more firm than he expected it to be. If he was listening to himself, he’d almost believe it.

“No?” Zachary echoes and he sounds so… relieved?

“No.” Will confirms, feeling his stomach turn at the outright lie. There’s no way he can talk this up in his mind, worm his way around it, bend some definitions and truths. He’s lying. Zachary has asked him and he has lied. And it’s so easy. It makes him sick and relieved at the same time.

“Oh. Okay. Sorry.” he can hear Zachary’s shaky exhale and it makes him wonder how long that question had been stuck in Zachary’s mind, how long he’s been gathering courage to actually ask, “...I mean- I mean not sorry that he didn’t- you know. I meant sorry about assuming I- Like I didn’t mean to…”

He sounds embarrassed in a way Will isn’t sure he’s heard before from Zachary. Sure, Zachary is embarrassed, or rather ashamed of a lot of things, things he shouldn’t ever feel shame about, but this feels new and Will can’t really put a finger on why. So he doesn’t say anything, resuming to staring into the dark, because what is he supposed to say anyway, to this, to anything. He just swallows and wraps his blanket tighter around himself.

“Whatever.” Zachary huffs after several long moments, making Zachary feel like he’s missed out on some part of the conversation, or maybe the missing piece just happened in Zachary’s head. “Then don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asks before he can bite his tongue.

“Talk to me.” It might have been meant to come out snappy but instead it just sounds oddly distressed, “Don’t. Whatever. I’m not- I asked, okay? I’m trying. Communicating, not doing the blame thing. I’m trying. Are you?”

The anger is bubbling up in Will’s chest again, alongside with the guilt and the hurt and all those emotions that have melted into his veins today, making him ache all over, “Are you saying I’m not?” because regardless of today, Will has been trying, Zachary cannot deny that. He must get how much Will is trying, how much it cost him to even share the same bed with Zachary after he confessed, and now again. He must see that this is Will _trying_ so hard. Will gets that he’s been unfair and horrible to Zachary in some ways today, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying. If he wasn’t, he’d just tell Zachary the truth right now and watch him walk away for good. But he’s too selfish for that. Or too much of a masochist. Some days he can’t decide which.

“Doesn’t feel like it right now.” Zachary mumbles.

Will switches the bedside lamp on, staring at Zachary for a few seconds as he blinks rapidly, his pupils accommodating to the sudden change in brightness.

“Well, excuse me for having other shit on my mind right now.” He doesn’t mean anything specific, just the overall situation, his dad, Jena, the cluster fuck that is his life. He can’t differentiate those things right now, he just knows that he feels like shit and _trying_ isn’t the top on his priority ranking right now. Keeping it together, not having a mental break down, is a little higher on the list as it is.

Zachary’s gaze flickers to Will’s bruised lip for a second before he meets his eyes again, a strangely determined look on his face, “I _excuse_ you.” He says eventually, “But if you talked to me about ‘the other shit’, maybe I wouldn’t have to. Like… I know we haven’t been the best at this… at talking, but… I’ve been thinking and- Maybe if I had just talked to you instead of… Will, look- You are my best friend and I somehow convinced myself that not talking to you was the solution, but on my own I messed it all up and- You said we needed to communicate. I am. You aren’t. I just want-”

“Yeah well,” Will says bitterly, “Asking to communicate lead to you telling me it was Jena you had sex with so I’m kinda fed up for now.”

Zachary shakes his head, his fingers clenched into the duvet, “You can’t do that. You don’t get to ask for the truth and then get mad at me for telling. I fucked up. I know. Believe me I know and I hate myself for it every day and I’m so damn sorry, and you can be mad at me for- for it- for having… with Jena… but not for telling the truth when you asked me to.”

“You didn’t tell me shit,” Will spits, his chest feeling tight, “You blurted it out, because you forgot for a second that I didn’t know and then you acted like it’s not a big deal, when you should fucking know that it is. You blurted it out after my father had just punched me in front of you. I didn’t ask for the truth today. I didn’t ask for any of this. I can’t handle shit like this right now!”

“Okay so you would have liked me to wait until it’s convenient for you? Because you aren’t already mad at me for not telling you sooner? Whatever I do, I can’t win.” Zachary says and it sounds like a challenge and admitting defeat at the same time.

“Well, that sucks for you, doesn’t it?” Will chokes out, pressing the heels of his hands in his eyes until there’s only buzzing darkness he can see, hearing his blood rushing in his ears.

_Winning._

_I can’t win._

_You won’t win._

_Whatever I do._

_I won’t let you._

“Screw you.” Zachary bites back, but it almost drowns in the sob that escapes him the same moment and when Will looks up at him, there are tears dwelling in his eyes, angry and stubborn and sad, matching his quivering lips, “Fucking screw you. Yes it sucks. _This sucks_!” he sniffles, biting his lip in a fruitless attempt to keep them from wobbling, “I bet you are really fucking glad that I leave tomorrow anyway.”

Will falters a little, seeing Zachary cry so openly, not even trying to hide his tears, just raising his chin in an attempt of preserving some dignity, it gets to him for some reason, along with his words, sounding so crushed and heartbroken, it’s not like Will didn’t know what he would do with his words, but somehow it seems too much suddenly. He’s felt so angry, so powerless, so hurt and betrayed and he just-

“…Zach...” he whispers, for the lack of something better to say. He can’t tell him he won’t be at least a little bit glad that Zachary leaves tomorrow. He needs time and space and he knows, he just knows the events of today will have an aftermath and he’d rather not have Zachary around for that. But he’s already lied enough today. “I’m just really mad right now.” _And tired. And scared._

“At me.” Zachary doesn’t look up.

“Yeah, at you.” Will agrees quietly, “And at me. And Jena, my dad, my mom, the world. Take your pick.”

“Okay.” Zachary whispers, maybe more to himself than to Will, because the next thing he does is rolling over so his back faces Will and he doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t stop crying either but Will finds himself unable to comfort him, to say anything more than a weak echo.

“Okay.”


	13. Chapter 13

They don’t talk about it. About none of it. Not dinner, not Will and his father yelling at each other, not Will getting hit, not Michael’s reaction or his mom’s or Will’s irrational anger towards Zachary, not the fighting. They don’t talk about it. They get up, they have breakfast, they pack Zachary’s things and they don’t talk. They exist in suffocating silence for the better part of the morning and Will isn’t sure if that’s his doing or Zachary’s. He can’t tell if it’s him being unapproachable, making the words get stuck in Zachary’s throat or if Zachary doesn’t have any words, nothing to say. If there’s nothing left. Or if he’s maybe waiting for Will to break the silence, to apologize, to explain, to give him something, anything to work with apart from tangible tension and heavy quietness. Will doesn’t even know what he himself feels, how he is interpreting Zachary’s demeanor. He still feels somewhat numb, sore in a way, from the exhausting emotional turmoil that has been the past night that he can’t quite put his finger on. He just knows that even thinking feels like an impossible chore right now, which is more than a little inconvenient because he knows that he has to think, he has to figure things out, has to make sense of what happened yesterday and start acting accordingly.

But not right now. Not when Zachary is heaving his suitcase in the trunk of Will’s mom’s car while Will waits quietly, leaning against the driver’s side off the car, gaze focussed on a weed that’s breaking out through the cracks in the drive way and Will can’t think of anything to say anyway.

A childish stubborn voice in his head insists that it, starting a conversation, saying something, anything, it shouldn’t be all on Will anyway. He fucked up yes, big time, he said horrible things, but Zachary _did_ horrible things and he kept them from Will only to reveal them to Will at the worst possible moment. But that voice is barely a murmur and Will knows it’s lying. At least in some aspects. He knows it’s his turn, the ball is in his court. Zachary hasn’t been the one that fucked up last night, quite the contrary, and he shouldn’t be the one to make the first step, no matter how much Will can reason for his seemingly irrational outburst.

He just needs to figure out where to start, but he doesn’t have the mental capacity for that right now, to differentiate between excuse and explanation, to find the right balance, a way to fix things or rather find out if they are fixable. If he can, if he should.

His head becomes clearer while he’s driving, Zachary has turned on the radio, but he doesn’t sing along like he usually does, just stares blankly out of the window, body angled away from Will as much as the seatbelt allows. It’s almost like he can’t stand to look at Will, and he hasn’t really for the whole morning, always keeping his eyes averted, as far as Will has noticed. He would lie if he said that didn’t hurt. Last night Zachary accused Will of being happy that Zachary leaves today but right now, Will thinks, Zachary might be the one feeling glad about it. He can’t really blame him. If he could, he wouldn’t return to that house either.

This drive is a harsh contrast to how they have arrived here, barely a week ago. His mom behind the steering wheel and Will with Zachary on the backseat, listening to his mom rambling, the sun shining through the window, unaware of what was waiting for him at him. Will had felt happy and full of hope for this break, tentative optimism bubbling in his chest, that the time they would spend together here would help them get it together, give them a chance to overcome the shit that had happened between them and start new, in a way.

In hindsight Will should have known better than to hope. When did things ever work out the way he was wishing them to?

Will absentmindedly picks on the cut in his lip and hisses when he accidently makes the pain flare up. When he licks his lip he finds the metallic taste of blood. Great, he caused it to open again.

Immediately he can feel Zachary’s eyes snapping to him but he fights the urge to meet his gaze, instead tightens his grip on the steering wheel, returning both hands to it and changes lanes, just to have something to focus on. Zachary doesn’t say anything. At least not for another ten minutes.

“Does it hurt bad?” he asks and Will wants to scoff because no, of course not. It doesn’t hurt bad. It isn’t bad. Bad are cracked ribs, bad are kidney area bruises and bad is a dislocated hip and sprained fingers. A split lip isn’t bad. A bruised jaw isn’t bad. Could be bad. But it isn’t. Then realizes though, or rather remembers, that Zachary doesn’t really know those things. He’s never been hit in the face as far as Will knows. Never been in a physical fight never had been hurt like this. He’s told Will about spraining his wrist once when he fell with his bike as a kid, but that’s it. He doesn’t have Will’s experience and that’s- that’s how it’s supposed to be. It’s like yesterday when Will saw his mother’s familiar reaction in stark comparison to Zachary’s complete shock. This is normal. Zachary is looking out of the window because when he looks at Will he sees the bruises, he sees the damage. He doesn’t overlook it, isn’t used to it like Will is, like his family is. Zachary _sees_ it. And he doesn’t know what to do with it.

And right now, neither does Will.

“No.” he answers eventually, the word coming out strangely clipped, like there’s something missing.

“It looks like it hurts.” Zachary mumbles, but it’s not phrased as a question so Will isn’t sure if a reply is required or wanted or if it’s just Zachary trying to make sense of things for himself. So Will doesn’t plan on answering, keeps his eyes on the road, and hands on the steering wheel and mind focused on driving and driving alone.

It’s why it surprises Will a little when, after a while, he hears himself say, “It looks worse than it is.” And even more when Zachary gives him a quizzical look in return and a half mumbled, “Guess you would know.”

It sounds like an accusation. But also sad. Will doesn’t know what to make of that combination, but he knows that for a split second the intense urge to pull over to the emergency lane and tell Zachary that he loves him is almost too much to bear. He just wants- He needs to-

He can’t see Zachary’s eyes, he’s turned away again and he isn’t sure if he could make sense of things if Zachary was looking at him, but this, like this, the silence, the emptiness it feels so wrong and yet so inevitable. It leaves Will helpless. He grits his teeth and keeps driving until the numbness takes over again. The words wouldn’t be welcome anyway and they are confusing too. For Will himself and for Zachary. After yesterday more than ever.

They return to silence for the rest of the drive.

“So…” Zachary says taking his suitcase out of the trunk and looking away, towards the entrance hall of the airport, not at Will, not at Will, not at- He hasn’t look at him since he asked about the bruise. “This is it then?”

Will shrugs, unsure what exactly Zachary is referring to. How could he, when Zachary won’t even meet his eyes?

“Your flight goes in an hour.” He says. _I love you,_ he thinks. “Security might take a while.” he adds. _I don’t know,_ he thinks. _I don’t know how to feel, what to do, what to say. I know that I love you but how could I say those things to you then? How could I hurt you like that? Let you hurt me like that? What do I do? Is this it? Is it? I don’t know. I love you. I love you. I love you._

Zachary nods, looking on the ground, his lips pressed into a tight line, “Yeah.” He agrees flicking his fringe out of his eyes, squinting at the sign next to the entrance door.

 _I’m a liar,_ Will thinks. “I hope you have a good flight,” he says. _And you are a cheater._ _Where do we go from here?_

Zachary nods.

“Drive safe.” He adds after a moment, shouldering his backpack and tightening his grip on his suitcase.

“I will.” Will answers too late when Zachary has already walked several steps away, the automatic entrance doors opening for him, closing behind him.

 

***

 

He spends almost an hour in the airport parking lot and ends up paying way too much for the parking ticket, but he can’t bring himself to care. He can think here, away from the house, from his family, away from Zachary. He feels like he’s away from everything like he can just think, look at things from a distance without dissociating from reality. It feels like he’s in a little bubble, looking at the world from the outside without losing touch. The airport is a busy place, hustling with people coming and going, with energy and hectic, never stopping, always moving and yet he feels calmer than he has felt in what seems like an eternity.

When Will eventually drives home he doesn’t have a plan ready, isn’t really sure what he wants to do or say, but it feels like the beginnings of some sort of idea are forming in his head and like everything is a little more settled now that he has had time to think about things.

Him and Zachary had been good, not perfect, but good. He had felt good. Then his dad had happened. The fight, Will getting hit, his mom not doing anything, Michael yelling at him, Zachary defending him, Will attacking Zachary. Will accusing Zachary telling him he wished he didn’t love him, telling him he wouldn’t have told him about his father, never planned to. Zachary being hurt, Zachary saying it had been Jena. And suddenly things hadn’t been good anymore. Within a couple of hours. How had that happened? How had Will let that happen?

He loves Zachary. He love shim so much and Zachary, Zachary loves him too and yet…

He parks the car in the driveway, but it takes him another 10 minutes to get up and walk over to the house.

 “Hey, Will.” His mom calls as soon as Will lets the front door fall shut behind him. For a second he contemplates not answering, pretending to not have heard her and just making his way upstairs to his room to where he would spent a not yet determined amount of time feeling sorry for himself like he planned to. He doesn’t want to see her or talk to her, it’s one of the things he’s come to terms with on the drive back. He doesn’t think he can stand it right now, the softness in her eyes, the edge of pity in her voice mixed with guilt and a plea for understanding. It makes him sick, he’s been faced with it too many times, thought he had been rid of it for good and yet here he is again and even in those two words, the first she has spoken to him since the escalation at dinner last night, it’s painfully obvious. Yes, she feels sorry, yes she wishes his father hadn’t hit him, but she hasn’t done anything against it either, and she won’t. Just like when he had been a kid. Nothing changed. Not her, not his dad.

It would almost be funny if it didn’t make him feel so sick.

“What?” he calls in response to her, hovering on the first step of the stairs.

“Would you come here for a moment?” she answers and Will complies after a moment of hesitation. If he doesn’t come talk to her now, she might come upstairs later, sit on the edge of his bed and try to make peace, apologize for his father, make excuses for his father, make promises for his father. Never for her. Never her. She’s a victim just like him.

Except that she isn’t. She’s also an enabler. And an abuser. Will knows that, has known that for a while. He had just assumed the days where those words fit his mother were behind them, but apparently not.

“What is it?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe. His mother smiles at him and puts down the magazine she has been reading, to pat the spot on the couch next to her. Reluctantly Wills its down. She cups his jaw and runs her thumb over the bruised skin, her gaze soft and sad as it grazes over his face. “Do you need some more ice, love?” she asks and Will tilts his head away, from her words and her hand as an answer. She sighs quietly.

“Did you drop Zachary off at the airport?” his mother tugs one strand of hair behind her ear. He can see a bruise on her wrist but doesn’t allow his eyes to linger there.

“Yeah.” He replies curtly and wonders if she noticed how long he has been gone, if she really cares.

She only hums in response and yet he can tell by the way her skinny fingers flicker over the fabric of her jeans that there is more she wants to say. “Everything alright between you two?” she asks carefully after a moment of nothing except the ticking of the kitchen clock filling the space between them.

And what is he supposed to say to that? She is not asking about his relationship. He knows she isn’t, or if she is it’s at least not her main concern. What she’s asking if he has Zachary under control, if she has to worry about the police showing up, about Zachary not complying to the rule that doesn’t even need to be spoken in this family, the rule that Will has only broken that one time, years ago. And not even yesterday night, engulfed in the darkness of his bed room when Zachary has asked that question Will hasn’t been able to do it again. He’s kept quiet. No. He has _lied_. For her. For his father. She doesn’t worry about him. She knows she doesn’t need to and that makes his cheeks hot with shame.

“No.” he says though. It’s an answer to the question her words asked and the question _she_ asked alike. He isn’t sure Zachary will keep quiet, doesn’t know much of anything in regards of him and Zachary right now, least of all what is going on in Zachary’s mind after what he witnessed last night at dinner and the following fight between them, the awful things Will threw in his face.

“We had a fight,” he adds for a reason he doesn’t quite understand himself. She’s not the person to confide in or to console him. He isn’t sure if he has such a person anyway.

“Oh...” his mother gives him a small smile and he tries to ignore the flicker of worry in her eyes, because he doesn’t want to think about the fact that she most likely isn’t worrying about his train wreck of a relationship, “You’ll figure it out, sweetie.” She pats his knee, “It’s going to be okay.”

Will shakes his head. How can she say that? Say it so easily like it’s a simple truth and not a big fucking maybe tied to countless conditions, none seeming short of a miracle in terms of coming true. Of course, she hasn’t been there for his fight with Zachary, for him crumbling under the weight of his past catching up with him and letting it out on Zachary, on Zachary who had been trying so hard and has had Will not only fight back but outright attack him in response. But she should get how the events of last evening could be a strain for Will’s relationship, how burdening and damaging it must be, how much pressure she is putting on Will by expecting him to make sure Zachary would keep their family drama to himself.

He wants to yell at her but instead he finds a lump in his throat and when he speaks the words that come out aren’t hard and vengeful, but bitter and unsure.

“It’s hard.” He murmurs, “It’s really hard.” All of it. And he misses it being easy, or rather, _easier_. He misses just being with Zachary, at home, at the gaming house, playing the game they both love, just being with each other without all the complicated stuff, without Will having to think about all the lies he’s told Zachary, about all the secrets he’s keeping, all the lies he’ll have to tell to keep those parts of him he’s so irrationally ashamed off hidden. Parts that have been moulded by his father’s rough hands. But also by his mother’s inability to be the mother she should have been be to her son.

“I know, baby.” She pulls him in to press a kiss on his hair, “But that’s love. It _is_ hard.”

“It’s-“ Will opens his mouth and closes it again in the same breath, because no. “No.” he says out loud. That, what his mother is saying so offhandedly, in a soft voice like it’s a consolation of any sort, like it’s the truth, some kind of adult wisdom, that is the whole problem, the whole issue she has, the sole reason for the fucked up-ness that she made his life. “It’s not, mom.” He says, his voice shedding shakiness with every word, “It’s not supposed to. It’s not- Love isn’t supposed to be hard, mom.”

“Oh Will,” she says with a tone of patronization that has his chest feel tight, “It is. Love is hard work. And sometimes it’s ugly. And it hurts. But that’s just how it is.”

Again Will shakes his head. She is wrong. She is wrong on so many levels and he doesn’t even know where to begin, doesn’t know if he should. Yes, love is hard work, but love in itself? No. She’s got this idea, this picture of love in her head that has her mistake things for love that aren’t. What she knows, or what she thinks she knows, about love, about relationships, she has learned from his father, his father who’s been with her since she was fourteen, fucking fourteen. A child, formed into the woman she is now by his words, his hands, his ‘love’. A part of Will feels sorry for her. How is she supposed to know better when his father is all she has ever known- _is_ all she knows?

“What do you know about love anyway?” he says and it’s less of a question than a statement. She doesn’t know anything and it’s taken him a long while to realize that, “You don’t love anything.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, “Will!”

“You don’t.” he presses his lips together. Thinking it, realizing it is one thing, but saying it out loud to her face is like taking an additional step into waist high freezing water, “And you sure as hell don’t love me. I know you think you do but you don’t. Or you wouldn’t let him get away with everything he does to me. What he has done. I used to think that maybe, you just love him more than me. And that would have been okay. I was okay with that. But that’s not it.” He makes sure to lock eyes with her for his next words, “Because you don’t love him either.”

Her eyes go impossibly wide and there’s an underlying tremor in her hands where she has them curled into each other in her lap, tension evident in the taut line of her shoulders. She shakes her head in tiny, almost invisible jerks as she presses her lips together before she finally speaks, voice nothing more than a horrified whisper.

“Will, how can you say that?” She says, “Of course I love you. I am your mother. And your father, he-”

 _Your mother._ The word sounds like a joke to Will’s ears, suddenly void of its original meaning.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” He says matter of factly. Because it doesn’t at least it won’t, not anymore. She’s the woman who gave birth to him, raised him, fed him, taught him how to read and write and drive but she hasn’t been a mother to him. Or if she has, the word really is a joke. He’s spend so many years loving her and for what? For her to give him to the horrible man that is his father over and over again. Even now after years of it just being them, them being good, of him believing in her loving him she has done it again. He’s sick and tired of it. “My mother. You know what you are? You are scared. That’s what you are. Of so many things. Of him. Of being alone, of the person you are without him, of the person you could have become. Of being unloved, or you know, what you mistake for being loved. You are scared of knowing, of seeing what you, not dad, you, what you have done to me. What damage you have done. You are scared of your own damn shadow.”

Will lets out the breath he’s been holding, studying the expression shift on her face from shocked to hurt to upset, to disbelief, like she too isn’t sure what to feel. It doesn’t take long though.

“Your father loves me. He’s just- Things aren’t easy for him right now-” she says with quivering lips, pushing out her jaw in an act of stubborn defiance and Will forces himself to ignore the jab of pain he feels in his stomach at his mother choosing that particular part of his accusation to focus on, the one she thinks she needs to defend. In hindsight he really shouldn’t be surprised at it though.

“He doesn’t.” Will says and if he’s ever been sure of anything in his life it’s this, “He’s not capable of that. Of loving. He owns you. And that’s what you mistake for love because it’s the only thing you know. He made sure of that.”

He’s being cruel he knows that, but he can’t keep the words in. Now that he’s aware of this, has allowed himself to think it through, look at it from a different angle, imagine how Zachary has experienced the interactions within Will’s family. And talking, talking to her, saying those things out loud, it’s like pulling a plug. It just doesn’t stop coming. He’s kept so many secrets has been quiet so often and for so long over so many things, has swallowed down his feelings and thoughts and taught himself to not think, to not see, to not feel, but today, last night after Zachary has fallen into a fitful sleep, leaving Will alone with his thoughts in the darkness, and then today, he has realized that he doesn’t want that anymore. It’s taken him until now, a quiet morning an even more quiet and tense drive to the airport, an awkward goodbye and this living room conversation now to realize it but it’s true and he can’t, or rather doesn’t want to take any of it back.

His father’s hit last night has taken Will by surprise even though it shouldn’t have. He has called himself stupid over not seeing it coming, has blamed himself, out of habit. When his mother slaps him across he doesn’t expect it either but in a strange settled calmness he isn’t surprised by it either. In a way it seems like a natural progression of things.

“Don’t say things like that!” his mother scolds him, eyes wet with tears and voice as shaky as ever, “Don’t you ever-”

“You know,” Will cuts her off, the stinging pain on the side of his face nothing more than a background noise, “I may have fucked up my relationship beyond repair but at least I know what being in love really means. Being loved and loving in return. At least I know how that feels. And you know what? I figured those things out all by myself.” he gets up, takes a step back from the couch because his mom is crying now and he can’t stand feeling the shaking of her shoulders against his. It makes his throat feel dry and his chest ache in a way he no longer wants it to. “No thanks to you. That’s all me.”

His mother doesn’t say anything, just buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He can’t count the number of times he has seen her cry on one hand, not even on both, it’s been too often, too frequent, but this is the first time he is the cause of his mother’s tears. The first time he has actively caused them, consciously hurting her with his words. It doesn’t feel like a victory. Not like a loss either. It just is. It makes him feel a little hollow.

He remembers her crying when he told her what his father had done, the first time when he was thirteen and confused and hurt and she told him under tears that this would have to stay their little secret or they would take his daddy away and that just couldn’t happen. He remembers her crying when Will broke his ankle in gym class because she was scared the doctors would find his other, carefully hidden injuries. He remembers her crying in the bathroom before the trial, begging Will to not say anything, to not take her husband from her by telling the truth. He remembers being the one having to console her. He also remembers realizing that it should have been the other way round.

“That’s the thing mom.” Will says, “When I was little I thought I had to love you and dad because you were my parents and that’s why you just had to love me too. It was your job to love me. That’s what they tell you, that’s how things are. You are family so you love each other. I was so sure of that, despite all the shit you did, what you put me through. But you didn’t love me. You _don’t_ love me.” He pauses, forcing himself to speak louder, raise his voice above the whispering tone he has fallen into, “And here’s the great part, I don’t love you either. Not anymore. And I don’t have to.”

Will doesn’t know love because of his parents, because of his family, but because of Zachary. It sounds stupid and a little ridiculous but it feels true. Will has learned what loving someone meant when he had fallen in love with Zachary. With his smile, his laugh; the way he played a long with the shit Will said, the way he ran his fingers through his fringe and the soft tone of his voice when he talked about something he really cared about. He learned that loving someone wasn’t lying for them and hurting for them, hurting because of them, it wasn’t taking and accepting damage because you were asked too, because you thought you had to.

Zachary has hurt Will, in many ways, on many occasions but never once has he made Will feel like he had to love him, had to love him through it, had to suffer for him. That had always been Will’s choice, Will’s call, Will making the decision to have it be worth it, and Zachary, Zachary loved Will back. If Will is being honest to himself, despite the cheating, despite all the times he has doubted their relationship, has refused to trust Zachary with various parts of himself, despite all that, he knows Zachary loves him back. Has known before Zachary even told him. Just because Zachary hasn’t said it for so long, has struggled with accepting it himself, hasn’t meant he hasn’t felt it. Because he has. He does. It has been obvious in so many ways despite Zachary’s flaws and mistakes. Will can see that now. It doesn’t excuse everything but it softens it a bit.

“Will,” his mother says and pulls him from his thoughts. She’s standing up now, reaching out for him with a hesitant hand, but when he takes a step back she doesn’t follow, “I love you so much, honey. I do. I do. You have to know that. I’m your mother. We are a family. We will always be a family. We do love each other.”

Will swallows, “Have you even heard a word I said?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, “Are you even sorry? Just one bit?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“I thought so.” He turns around and walks up the stairs, closes his room door behind himself, pushes the chair under the handle and walks calmly to his bed. The pillow still smells a little like Zachary. He breathes in, breathes out. Then he starts crying. He hasn’t cried last night, hasn’t let himself, there had been too many emotions all tangled up inside him warring for ascendancy for him to focus enough on one to truly feel it, to let himself be overwhelmed. Now his head feels clear again so he lets himself grieve. For himself, his mother, him and Zachary, everything. He just cries and cries until he feels empty, salt on his lips, his chest hurting from the sobs and his cheeks hot, the skin sticky with traces of tears.

When he glances at the clock on his nightstand over an hour has passed. Two and a half to be exact and while he doesn’t have any tears left he doesn’t feel ready to do anything yet, not moving or thinking or _doing_. He can’t let things stay the way he left them, he can’t get the look of Zachary’s face on the airport out of his head, can’t forget the brokenness in Zachary’s voice when he said that he couldn’t win no matter what and the sinking feeling in his stomach he has felt at that because it was true and not just because of Jena’s words, Jena’s interference, but because of Will himself because he never really gave Zachary a chance, never tried to-

He had just decided that Zachary wouldn’t want to hear, that his problems with himself, with some aspects of their relationship would translate to him being not trustworthy enough for Will to conclude his past to him. And all that despite Zachary being his best friend, the person he loves, claims to love like Zachary has said. And Will does, he does love him but Zachary is right to call Will a hypocrite for keeping himself closed off. He can’t deny that. He’s been used to talking around things, finding evasions and euphuisms that he hasn’t even noticed half the times he’s been dishonest with Zachary and when he has, he has found a way to justify it. All while demanding honesty from Zachary. One of the things Will has come to realize is that Zachary keeps things to himself, his issues his struggle, not because he wants to, not really, but because he can’t deal with them, has trouble to really fathom them. Will doesn’t have that excuse. He’s painfully aware of it all, has it figured out and stored away in neat boxes in the back of his mind. Now it’s all spilled and in the mess it’s revealed how much Will has been shutting Zachary out. Consciously. It’s not fair. _Will_ hasn’t been fair.

He needs to fix this. He needs to try. Try like Zachary has tried. Make an effort. Make things right.

After another hour passes Will gets up, gets himself water from the tab in the bathroom and when he passes through the hallway the house is silent. He checks his watch again. Calculates in his head how long Zachary’s flight takes, how long he had to wait at the airport, check in check out, baggage claim, security. And then he waits. He waits and waits and tries not to think about what he’s going to say because his mind would most likely end up blank and he’d rather not allow himself to rely on something that he knows won’t work anyway.

When it’s finally time to call Zachary, and expect the call to be taken and not declined or not going through in the first place, Will’s hands almost don’t shake as he opens up his contacts and selects Zachary’s number.

“Hi,” he says softly when Zachary picks up. He’s sitting on his bed, arms curled around his pillow and phone set on speaker.

It takes a moment for Zachary to reply, there’s a lot of background noise, like he is still at the airport in Florida and it sounds like he is trying to figure out some phone logistics, but eventually he says, “Hi,” back, tone caught somewhere between unsure and guarded.

Will exhales slowly, “Zach, I-”

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything else because Zachary scoffs, there’s a rumpling noise audible and then silence for a moment.

“Look, Will,” Zachary says and it looks like guarded and surfacing anger have won his tone over. It’s nothing Will shouldn’t have expected considering how they parted ways, “I’m still at the airport waiting for my parents and I really can’t talk right now and to be honest I don’t really want to, so could we not-”

“I love you.” Will blurts out and his own heart skips a beat at the words despite him having said it so much and so often to Zachary. Somehow it feels more significant now. He hopes Zachary gets that and that it doesn’t scare him away. It hasn’t been what he had expected himself to open with, but it’s been right there on his tongue taking its place in front of all the other words, as soon as he has heard Zachary’s voice resonating from the speaker. Will wants to say so much more, should say more. Like ‘I’m sorry’. Like ‘I lied to you’. Like ‘please don’t give up on us’. Maybe he should have made a plan after all.

But now he’s said it, made his opening and the silence hangs heavy between them, except that it isn’t silence, there is the busy background and the hammering of Will’s heart in his own ribcage and the volume of his own thoughts. It’s not silence but Will breaks it all the same.

“I didn’t say it before you left.” He explains, haltingly. He hasn’t. The last time he’s said it has been last night and he has had said it in anger. Wishing out loud, in the same breath, that he didn’t and that- that has had been cruel. It has hurt Zachary and Will knows that. And while it had felt true in that moment it isn’t true now, hasn’t been true for a long time in spite of everything. He doesn’t wish he didn’t love Zachary, he just wishes it wouldn’t hurt so much sometimes. But that’s not all on Zachary. It’s on Will too. Last night, that has been all on Will. They’ve got to do better, the both of them. Will had been the one telling Zachary that but he thinks maybe he only gets it now, having to catch up to Zachary. “But I do. I want you to know that.”

“Will…” Zachary exhales and Will can’t place the tone of his voice but something about it is unsettling, has Will fidget with his fingers. He really hopes, in spite of what he told his mom, that he didn’t fuck up his relationship beyond repair. He’s done a lot of damage, they both did, but he has to believe that there’s still enough left to build from. “You don’t have to say it back.” Will says quickly, “It was not cool of me to pressure you into it. If you don’t feel that way,” he really hopes he does though, “Or if you aren’t ready to say it yet than that’s okay. Asking for more than you are ready to give that’s not cool. We are okay. And I-”

“I do. Though.” Zachary interrupts him quietly, “Love you back, I mean.”

Suddenly breathing is a little easier and Will smiles to himself. Last night he hasn’t let himself feel good about hearing Zachary say those words, has focussed on everything negative instead, but now it’s different. It feels good, it _makes_ him feel good. And a while back, he would have left it at that content with having the confirmation of Zachary’s feelings for him and be done with it, he would hope things would work themselves out on this basis, but he is calling for a reason and while he’s gotten the important part out of the way he isn’t quite finished yet.

“-And I… I’m still…” he swallows, licking his lips, it’s important that he gets this right, “I’m not saying this thing with Jena isn’t bothering me anymore. Because it is. But… it doesn’t make the things I’ve said okay. The way I treated you yesterday… that wasn’t cool. I was really unfair.”

Zachary doesn’t say anything for a moment, then a quiet chuckle and a sigh and Will can picture the look on Zachary’s face so well it’s almost like they are face to face. It makes him smile too. “Yeah.” Zachary agrees, “But you were upset… because… cause of your dad and I get that-”

“No, you don’t,” Will cuts him off and he really hopes that Zachary doesn’t take that the wrong way, but Zachary doesn’t get it, not all of it and that’s Will’s fault. “I was upset. Because of my father. But don’t ever make excuses for me treating you like shit, okay? Because it’s not okay. And I don’t,” Will takes a deep breath, “I don’t want you to love me unconditionally. And I won’t love you that way either. I want you to love me because I deserve it. You shouldn’t feel obliged to keep loving me when I’m a fucking arsehole to you. That isn’t how it should work.”

“But you do?” Zachary asks after a moment of tentative silence, “You do still… love me?”

Will nods to himself, “Yeah. I do.”

Again Zachary is quiet for a moment and Will starts to worry what he is preparing to say, if Will did scare him off after all, if he’s going to take it back what he said about loving Will, that he doesn’t think they can be fixed that he doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want Will’s apology and his ‘sort-of-epiphany’ but at the same time Will thinks if that were to happen it would have by now. Probably a while back.

Then Zachary says, quietly and softly, so low it almost gets lost in the background noise, “Why?” and Will gets it then. Zachary hasn’t been contemplating if Will deserves his love or if Will has been too much of an arsehole, but _why_ Will loves him. If _he_ , if Zachary deserves to be loved. And that… Will should have really realized that. He knows about Zachary’s self-esteem issues, of his fucked up sense of self-worth and the expectations and disappointments he’s carrying around with him every day. And the things Will said yesterday, they had aimed directly for those wounds.

“Because yesterday you didn’t seem to have the highest opinion of me. So…” Zachary adds unsurprisingly and Will wants to bury his face in shame. He did that. He has made Zachary sound so small and meek. He has hit Zachary where he knew it would hurt, fully aware of the impact it could have.

The worst thing is that in that moment it has felt good. Recalling that feeling now makes Will only feel sick. He should be the one asking ‘why’. Not Zachary.

“Yeah, about what I said…” Will begins, biting his lip, feeling the sting from the cut there through the dull ache of the bruising.

“You can’t just say you didn’t mean it. Because you did.” Zachary cuts in, preventing Will from continuing. Not that he has had any words lined up, any apologies or something alike, that could undo the damage he has done. The important thing, Will tries to focus on, is that he sees it, he is aware of what he did now and he’s sorry. And he’s not going to let himself do it again.

“I know.” Will says quickly, “And those _are_ things that bother me. Things I think about sometimes. I do think that your family doesn’t treat you well. But that’s not something I mean to use against you. That’s something I hate because you don’t deserve to feel small and inadequate because they fail to see your worth. And being with me, I don’t just think that it bothers you. I know it does. Don’t deny it- but it isn’t what I focus on usually. What matters is that you are with me. Still. Despite you struggling with who you think that makes you. And that is worth a lot. That is what counts.” He pauses for a moment, before he continues, making an effort to keep his voice from dropping into a whisper, “And I do feel like I’m too much, that the things that… my father did to me… the… baggage I have… that it’s too much. But not because I don’t trust you, but because it’s too much for _me_ sometimes even though I’ve been living with it for a long time and it’s easier to-” Will closes his eyes, urging himself to keep talking, keep explaining, he hopes it gets easier with each word even though so far every single one has felt like a fight itself, “It’s easier to call you a coward than admit I’m one myself.” He takes another deep breath, “And the truth is I have no idea why you cheated on me with Jena. I don’t. Because I’ve been distant? Because I’m a guy? Because you want me to break up with you or because you love me? Or all of it? I don’t know. I don’t really know anything.”

“You did say some pretty shitty things,” Zachary mumbles but he doesn’t really sound mad, more a little sad, the silence after he breaks off heavy with things he probably doesn’t know how to say or if he really wants to say them yet. Will knows the feeling.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “And I’m sorry. I really am.”

Will isn’t sure how long they are silent after this, how many minutes pass. He could look at the call time on his phone but he doesn’t, he just keeps his eyes closed, head resting on his forearms, wondering what Zachary looks like on the other end of the line, in the middle of a busy airport, phone pressed to his ear, having a conversation that belongs behind closed doors, face to face, them close enough that Will can see the way Zachary’s chest rises and falls with each breath, close enough for him to reach out, to touch to feel, to be- to-

“I’m sorry too.” Zachary says and Will releases a breath he hasn’t know he’s been holding. “I’m not very good at this whole thing,” Zachary continues after pausing long enough for Will to wonder if it’s his turn to answer again. But not quite yet it seems. “I know that I suck. At being a boyfriend. I wasn’t very good at it with Jena.” Will tries not to let anger bubble up at the mentioning of her name, “And I’m not with you. But I’m trying with you. And I… I wouldn’t if you didn’t… mean a lot to me. If I didn’t trust you. And the fact that you don’t trust me, that kinda sucks. A lot. I get that I haven’t given you much reason to, but still.”

Will shifts, brushing his hands over the fabric of his pillow, feeling the texture underneath his palms, taking comfort in its familiarity. He clears his throat, “Yes it sucks.” Because it does, “But it’s not… I find it hard trusting people. Not just you. I should trust you. Should be trusting you, whatever, with… certain things. And I haven’t been making as much of an effort as I should have. That’s an issue. Mine. My issue. Not your fault, not as much as you think at least.”

He can’t stand the thought that Zachary thinks that it’s solely him, his failings as a boyfriend, as he put it himself, him sucking at relationships, that has kept Will from fully opening up to him, laying bare parts of him that he’s kept to himself for many years. Sure it may have played into it but more as a side note, a convenient justification than as the main reason. The truth is Will hasn’t trusted anyone with it. He never told anyone, except his mom all those years back and what good had that gotten him?

The thought to say it now is still terrifying but Will is beginning to think that maybe it will never stop being terrifying but it will also never stop being important no matter how much he likes to pretend it will. If he was in Zachary’s place, he thinks he would want to know. And if Zachary does decide to walk out on Will, because it’s too hard, too much, too fucked up, than he should do that on his own accord, make his own informed decision and not have Will basically pushing him out the door yelling that that’s what Zachary wants anyway. They both deserve better than that.

 “You are my best friend.” He says, “You’ve done some shit but this issue…that’s all me, okay? That’s not on you.”

Zachary seems confused at that, it’s evident in his voice, the way he stretches the syllables, like he tries to figure things out while already speaking “It is though? I’ve been-”

“No.” Will cuts in quickly, “I mean yeah you did some shit. I know that, you know that, but this… this is something…” he takes a deep breathe, concentrates on that for a second, breathing in breathing out, count to ten, count back, do it again, “Look, there is something that I need to tell you, Zach.”

“Tell me what?” Zachary sounds slightly alarmed. Also meek and Will realizes belatedly how close his statement has sounded to the infamous ‘We need to talk’, a combination of words that has its bad reputation for a reason.

“No-” he halts, He can’t say that it’s nothing bad, because it is. Not only ‘kind of’ but really really bad. But also not in the way Zachary probably thinks, but he isn’t really sure how to explain that without blurting out then whole truth right here right now, with Zachary on the phone miles and miles away. It’s not how he was planning to say this, not that he ever planned to say it in the first place before today. “It’s nothing you did.” He tries, but Zachary doesn’t sound convinced when he mumbles an alright in response.

“What is it?” he says but Will doesn’t get a chance to give an answer because Zachary himself cuts him off.

“Oh! There’s Emma,” he exclaims and Will can hear him calling his little sister over, even though he’s angling his phone away.

“Tell her hi from me,” Will says and he can already hear Emma’s excited but undistinguishable babbling. She’s probably standing right next to Zachary, impatient to finally have her big brother all for herself. He clears his throat. He can’t do this now. And a conversation like this shouldn’t happen over the phone anyway, “Maybe… maybe I better call you tonight again? When you are settled in and shit?”

Zachary seems to mull Will’s suggestion over in his head for a moment but eventually he sighs and gives an affirmative hum. There are more voices now and Will guesses Zachary’s parents have caught up to their children.

“Probably for the better,” Zachary says and he sounds genuinely annoyed by it, “Maybe we could duo? We can talk during?”

Will hesitates for a second. He isn’t sure if that is such a good idea, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to give a satisfactory performance on the rift while telling Zachary the truth about the true extent of the abuse he suffered from his father, about how he lied to him and how Zachary has been right and they should have had called the police but Will couldn’t because a part of Will’s mind is still stuck being that scared little kid that has had the rule of not talking beat into his head in a not so metaphorical sense of the word. It could be good though too, in a way, he muses, to have something to focus on while he talks, that could make it easier. He hasn’t really tried so he doesn’t know what would work for him, what the best option is here. He tries to remember how he made his statements in court but that- No. This is entirely different and he should treat it that way. This is Zachary.

“Sure,” he says.

“Okay,” Zachary hesitates in a way that tells Will that there is more he wants to say but can’t because it’s no longer just strangers around him. It’s his family, “Bye then?”

“Yeah.” Will puts on a smile, hoping it translates through his voice, “Bye.”


	14. Chapter 14

“I’m so fucking mad at you.” Is the first thing Zachary says to Will as he’s making his way through the front door of the gaming house, somewhat awkwardly dragging his suitcase along. He doesn’t say hello, or Hi or any other form of acceptable greeting. He hasn’t exactly planned on just bursting out with it like this, especially since Jack and Daerek are in the room too, but one look at Will’s blank expression and the words just tumble out, like they’ve been building up under his tongue for the past two weeks. Which they have, fuelled by the infuriating and hurtful radio silence from Will.

Because that is all that Zachary has gotten from him since that last conversation over the phone. Will hasn’t called later that day, like he has promised. There hasn’t been duo queue or something like that either, no. Nothing. Barely even a text.

“Really fucking mad.” Zachary adds for good measure, when Will doesn’t really react. He doesn’t even offer Zachary any real eye-contact. In fact he seems very interested in the doormat all of sudden. And that’s just such an arsehole thing to do. Ignoring Zachary while he’s a few states away is one thing, but doing it face to face is just too much.

“Would you fucking say something?” he hisses with less sharpness than he’s meaning to, but there are still other people in the room and while Zachary can see from the corner of his eye how pointedly Daerek is staring at the newspaper in front of him, he knows that there is now way his friend isn’t listening in on this admittedly very one sided conversation.

Will clears his throat, clenching his jaw, “Would you… maybe let me come in first?” he asks somewhat tonelessly. At least he doesn’t ask why Zachary is mad. It’s not exactly him acknowledging that Zachary is rightfully being upset, but it is some sort of reaction and Zachary will take what he can get.

He still raises his eyebrows though, “Would you… maybe consider not ignoring me for two weeks after ending a phone call with ‘I need to tell you something’?” he doesn’t wait for Will to reply, there is no need for that after all, “Oh right,” he says bitterly, “You already did that.”

Zachary knows he’s being mean and inconsiderate, especially in front of their friends but he is just _so_ angry at Will. Except that he maybe isn’t. He’s hurt and sad and he doesn’t understand why Will would do this. And claiming to be angry somehow feels more dignified than admitting the truth. It makes him feel less vulnerable.

Will of course, doesn’t say anything.

“You are such an arsehole.” Zachary mutters, shaking his head and yanking Will’s suitcase from his hand, giving him one last glance before stomping off to his room.

There is no way he’s letting Will fuck off to his own room right now. They’ve spent enough nights apart, and while Zachary’s first instinct would be to play things cool and pretend that he isn’t bothered by any of this, because he’s not some girl with a crush and being this openly vulnerable, admitting that Will has hurt him with his behaviour makes his skin crawl like he’s showered far too hot, he has also thought about this a lot, about the phone call. He has had time after all. He has thought about how Will has basically laid himself bare, admitting his faults and his mistakes, all for the sake of his relationship with Zachary. And regardless of what has happened after the phone call, or rather what hasn’t happened, it doesn’t change that Will has had called. That he has made that effort. And if Will can be brave so can Zachary.

He wants to try that and before his little outburst at the door it had been the plan too. Telling Will he’s hurt him, being open about it, but demanding an explanation. Will had told him not to let him be an arsehole after all. And what Will has done _does_ count as an arsehole move in Zachary’s book.

Zachary had thought that they were good. Will’s phone call had lead him to believe that things would go uphill from then on, that they could be alright, be in love. But once again that feeling had died only days later when Will had dodged another call, another attempt from Zachary to get in touch with him. It had hurt. A lot. Had made Zachary feel stupid and angry and vulnerable but mostly unsure. Unsure where him and Will are standing right now, unsure of his own interpretation of Will’s words, the phone call, the promises, the I love you’s. He’s just not sure anymore and worst of all, the pain of being ignored, isn’t exactly unfamiliar either. Zachary knows it well, he knows what it’s like to feel insignificant in someone’s eyes, is used to dealing with that, having to fight for attention or even the slightest bit of recognition. He’s spend two weeks receiving nothing but the bare minimum of affection rom his parents - which would have been alright, nothing new, nothing to care about, if it hadn’t been for Will cutting him off too.

That had hurt. That had been something Zachary hadn’t been -and isn’t- used to.

He’s come to realize over the past weeks, after everything had gone to shit, how much he depends on Will’s affection, on the warmth he’s used to receiving from him. Being completely ignored, it’s made Zachary aware of the gaping hole in his chest with a brutal honesty that is still aching in his bones.

He remembers Will telling him that he doesn’t deserve to feel small and inadequate. He does feel that way though, he can’t change that, he doesn’t know how, but he can try to pretend he doesn’t. Maybe that will make it true one day. Fake it until you make it or whatever. So Zachary takes a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists and tries to organize his thoughts.

Will follows him silently, bidding Daerek and Jack a wordless greeting most probably, but not saying anything to Zachary, not until Zachary’s room door falls shut behind them.

Will sighs then, eyes closed like he’s bracing himself, while Zachary sits down on the bed, arms crossed, waiting for Will to say something, _anything_. Anything would be better than this ongoing silence of the past two weeks.

“I’m sorry.” Will says quietly after another few moments. He doesn’t look at Zachary, but instead crouches down to take off his shoes, moving slowly, carefully putting them aside. Zachary notes absently how it’s a stark contrast to how he usually just tosses them aside carelessly, but there are more pressing matters and he doesn’t really care about how Will chooses to take off his shoes. He cares about why Will has chosen to ignore his boyfriend for two weeks after a heartfelt declaration of love.

He presses his lips into a tight line, “For what?” he asks, knowing very well, for what Will is sorry, or rather should be sorry for. He knows it’s petty but he would at least like to hear it out loud without having to spell it out for Will. Which is unfair, Zachary is self-aware to recognize that, since Will has had to spell out a lot of things for Zachary in the past.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Will replies after a couple of moments, glancing at Zachary from where he’s still standing next to the bed, apparently not yet about to sit down, “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“You didn’t mean to?” Zachary snaps, harsher than he meant to, “Are you kidding me? What was it an accident? You just accidently ducked all my calls and forgot to answer my texts? For two whole weeks? What the hell Will. I thought we were good. I thought-”

“We are.” Will cuts in quickly, quietly.

Zachary swallows, “Doesn’t feel like it. You know this sucks, right? It’s like I’m on a roller-coaster, like one second I think we are fine, we’ll make it through this and then the next second everything goes to shit and then we make up and I think again that we are good that this time we’ll be able to fix things and then everything goes to shit _again_ and I’m just- I don’t know, Will, I’m not a big fan of roller-coasters. Are you?”

“I’m not.” Will says and for a moment Zachary thinks that might be all Will is intending to offer him, but after another few breaths of silence have passed he continues, “I’m sorry. I really am. Forgive me?”

He sounds strangely timid and quiet and so unlike Will, no determination or bite to it. Nothing. Just this subdued version of him. It softens Zachary’s anger a bit, if not the sharp edges of his hurt.

“You gotta give me more, Will.” He forces himself to say, “I’m in no place to talk, I know that, but c’mon, we are trying.” He hesitates for a moment. Talking is hard, gathering his thoughts and feelings enough to actually put them into words is hard. Especially when it goes against everything Zachary would usually do, how he would approach this. He wouldn’t, that’s the thing. “I need a reason.”

There’s more he could say. More that he wants to say, or rather thinks about wanting to say, things that are stuck in his head, making it hard to focus on other things. He wants to ask why Will would do this, would ignore Zachary after telling him he loved him, making him say it back. Why he would tell Zachary that there was something they needed to talk about and then not only not making any attempt at talking about it, but talking _at all._ It doesn’t make sense and he wants answers but at the same time, he’s feeling like he’s already said too much.

Zachary tries to not get impatient when Will doesn’t reply right away. He wants an answer, he’s demanding one, that is new. Zachary asking questions is new and clearly Will doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. In fact he doesn’t really look like he knows what to do with much of anything right now, Zachary notices, now that he’s forced to take a moment and wait. It allows him to take in the situation, take in Will as he’s standing there in the middle of Zachary’s room. He has made no move to sit down yet and he’s looking at Zachary kind of blankly. It’s a little odd, causing Zachary to frown, but just as he’s about to open his mouth, Will decides to speak.

“There was…” Will says slowly, like he has to force the words out, “There was stuff. Stuff came up. With my… family. My mom…” he hesitates, licking his lips, probably subconsciously, but it draws Zachary’s eyes to it, to the stretch of skin where he still remembers seeing a bruise form, where he still remembers the dried blood from a split lip. Zachary’s stomach sinks. “My mom took my phone away. Parenting you know?” he tries to go for a laugh but it sounds a little choked off and suddenly Zachary finds himself getting to his feet, one step, two steps, closing the distance between them until he’s right in front of Will, looking up at him.

His heart is beating in his chest like crazy and he isn’t sure why, isn’t sure why he hasn’t thought of this before, but _stuff_ could mean anything. Sure, there are a thousand possibilities that Zachary thought of during those two weeks of silence to explain Will ignoring him. His phone battery died and he hasn’t gotten around to replacing it, construction side workers killing the internet line, Will being a dumb idiot who doesn’t know how to recharge his phone credit, one explanation wilder than the next but until now he’s never-

Except that he has. Of course has thought about it. How could he not with everything he has witnessed that last evening at Will’s house. But he’d thought- He’d hoped- Will had said it was nothing, he had said it wasn’t bad, that- So Zachary had pushed that thought away, the thought of Will maybe being in trouble and not like Zachary used to get in trouble with his parents as teenager or something trivial as that. No, real trouble, trouble that meant split lips and bruises and-

Stuff, could just be stuff. Family stuff. A little over two weeks ago he would have just agreed just shrugged it off and agreed, yeah _stuff_. Parents. He gets it. But he knows things now, about Will, about Will’s family. He’s seen ‘stuff’ first hand, has seen Will bleeding from a punch his father has delivered, has heard Michael yell accusations at Will, blame him for provoking their father. He can hear it on loop in his head, Will telling him that no it’s not a regular thing, that his father beating him hasn’t been a ‘thing’ and then in the next breath he’s snapped, hissing about how his father has spent the past years in jail, and how this has been his life, his shitty fucked up life and suddenly Zachary feels all cold.

He can’t believe he’s managed to push that idea out of his head this easily. He has seen it for god’s sake. Has seen Will get punched and he had still made the choice in his had to not think about it as a possibility for Will cutting off contact.

He reaches out, softly, slowly cupping Will’s jaw and for a moment he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t even know what he’s imagining, just that he’s more scared than mad now and that he has no idea how to ask Will about this. Stuff could just be stuff. It could be. It could.

“She took your phone away? What are you thirteen?” Zachary mumbles, searching Will’s expression for anything that will make him believe that stuff really is just stuff, a hint, a reassurance, whatever he’ll give him, Zachary would take it.

To his surprise Will actually laughs at that and if it sounds a little off, it might just be Zachary’s imagination.

“She seems to think so,” Will says, leaning into Zachary’s touch a little, “I’m really sorry, Zach. About everything. I want us to be good too. I really do. So can we just…”

He glances at Zachary with a sort of hopefulness in his eyes that has the last bit of Zachary’s anger melt away and instead of arguing further he gets on his tip toes, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s lips, trying not to think about the cut that’s been there the last time he has seen Will.

He can’t though. He tries, but he can’t. He opens his eyes and he just can’t stop staring at it, he can’t stop thinking about it, about ‘stuff’, stuff coming up, Will’s mom acting so weird, not surprised at all, Will’s and Michaels talk on the stairs, the fighting, the yelling, Will acting all weird, it’s all there, right there in Zachary’s head and he just can’t stop thinking about it. He just has to ask. He’s done with not asking things, in favour of ignoring them and have them blow up in his face later.

“Are you okay, Will?” he says quietly, tugging Will to the bed by his hand, “What’s stuff? What came up?” _And what have you been meaning to tell me?_

“Of course I’m okay,” Will answers a bit too quickly, giving him a tiny smile while getting on the bed next to Zachary so they can stretch out, lying on their sides looking at each other only inches apart, like they used to back then, all this time ago in the old gaming apartment, where they shared a room, before they even were a thing, talking to each other late at night about nothing and everything. “Stuff is just stuff. My mom gets weird about things sometimes. She’s… She’s still trying to figure this whole parenting thing out, you know?” he laughs again and Zachary can feel his breath tickling his skin and he really really wants to believe it, wants to believe that stuff is just stuff and Will’s mom is just a little weird in the way that moms are weird, but he still can’t quite shake the feeling that Will isn’t really giving him an answer. And why would he do that if stuff was really just stuff?

“No,” Zachary replies, watching Will’s reaction closely, “I actually don’t know.”

Will clenches his jaw, his eyes flickering a way for just a few seconds before they are back on Zachary’s, more guarded this time, carefully blank in a way that’s almost unnoticeable. Zachary wonders how many times Will has looked at him like this and he hasn’t noticed. It makes him feel a little bit empty. And for some reason guilty too.

“I took a detour on the way back from the airport,” Will says, with an easy smile playing on his lips, “I just felt like visiting Linda again and I didn’t think anything of it. I forgot that my mom needed the car to drive dad to another job interview and because of me they had to take the bus and well, she got mad about that. So she took my phone away because revoking car privileges doesn’t actually work as punishment since, hey I’m a gamer we don’t leave the house anyway,” he laughs again and Zachary feels sick, “So yeah. Her trying to do parenting.”

It’s a lie. All of it. Every word. Zachary just knows it. It’s a blatant lie, right to his face, simple as that. And it’s convincing, Zachary realizes. Will says it in the same tone, with the same casualness that he’s used times and times before. It’s just too familiar. Too practiced. Will is good at lying.

Zachary doesn’t say anything and when the silence stretches for a heartbeat to long Will presses his lips to Zachary’s, starting a kiss, not soft and chaste like the one from earlier, but more eager, wanting almost. Or that’s what Zachary would think if it weren’t for the uneasy twist in his chest telling him that Will isn’t kissing him because he wants to, because he feels like kissing Zachary but because he wants to distract him, because this is what they do, make out and fuck instead of talking and Will clearly doesn’t want to talk. He’s used his words to fool Zachary and now he’s using his body for the same purpose. He’s cupping Zachary’s face, one hand threading through the hair in Zachary’s neck, the other having found its way to his waist, a warm and usually promising presence pulling him in, pulling him closer. But now it’s doing nothing for Zachary in that department. He doesn’t even manage to close his eyes for the kiss. He feels frozen, unsure of what to do, of what to say. The only thing he’s sure of is that this isn’t right, that _something_ isn’t right at all and that kissing Will back now, letting him turn this into more, a more elaborate distraction, it would _absolutely_ be the wrong thing to do.

It still takes him a moment though, getting his hand between them, pressing against Will’s chest a soft and meagre attempt at pushing him away that shouldn’t be enough to do more than make Will aware of Zachary not being completely on board with this course of action. But it does more. Will practically flinches back from the touch, just a few inches but the reaction is so immediate, undisguised and instinctive that Zachary can’t chalk it up as anything but for what it is, for what Will’s face shows the split second it take shim to regain his composure. It’s fear. And pain.

Zachary stares at him.

“Will...” he breathes and something in his tone must tell Will exactly what Zachary is thinking, because the next thing that comes out of Will’s mouth isn’t another lie, another distraction, evasion. It’s not much of anything, really.

Just a whispered, “Don’t,” and a breaking voice and the lump in Zachary’s throat grows impossibly sharp edges at that. He almost doesn’t want to see it but Will’s hand twitches, his arm curled protectively around his middle, hand right there where Zachary has touched him only moments ago.

“Will.” Zachary repeats again, this time more intently, but no less raspy, his throat feeling raw like sandpaper.

Will closes his eyes in defeat, letting out a shaky breath. Slowly, agonizingly slow, he moves his arm, stretching out his fingers until they curl around the hem of his shirt. “Don’t say anything.” He whispers, without opening his eyes. Then he lifts his shirt, not much, barely enough to show the beginnings of his ribs, but it’s enough.

Zachary sucks in a sharp breath. Even if he wanted to, even if Will hasn’t had asked him to not say anything, he wouldn’t be able to. Zachary’s mind is utterly empty, void of any words or thoughts.

There is a bruise, a big one or several smaller ones bleeding into each other, colouring Will’s skin, a mix of purple and yellow and it stretches onto the areas still covered by Will’s clothes.

Zachary feels like he’s going to throw up. This is… this is ‘stuff’. This is… ‘parenting’. This is…

He must have made some sort of noise, a choked off gasp, maybe a sob, he isn’t sure, but Will’s eyes snap open and his gaze finds Zachary’s, holding him captive, drawing his eyes away from the horrible sight that is Will’s stomach.

“I’m okay,” Will says, giving Zachary the irrational urge to laugh, because no. No he’s not. This, this isn’t okay. It doesn’t look okay and Will doesn’t sound okay and no. Zachary might not know much about Will’s family about whatever weird shit went down with his mom and dad, and it’s like Will has said, Zachary’s family isn’t the picture perfect family either, but this is _not okay_. He knows that much. But even as he opens his mouth no words come out, his throat painfully dry and there’s a weight on his chest that makes it hard to breathe.

Will’s words are running on a loop in Zachary’s head and he hears it again and again, Will telling him that no, his dad hitting him, it hadn’t been a regular thing. That it had been nothing, not important. And Zachary he just- He hadn’t believed him, hadn’t bought it being unimportant but he hadn’t inquired further either, had gotten tangled up in their argument, lost focus and now, now the lie Will has told him is spelled out right there, purple bruising on pale skin, clear and pronounced.

“I’m okay.” Will repeats but it sounds as hollow as Zachary feels. “Don’t… don’t cry, please? Zach. I’m okay. I am. I promise.”

And _oh_.

Zachary brings up his hand to his cheeks finding them wet. Wet with tears. And when has that happened? It doesn’t matter anyway. Zachary doesn’t even have the emotional capacity to feel embarrassed by his reaction, he just stares at his fingers, the wetness there, drying quickly, then back at Will’s still exposed stomach. It looks like it hurts. Like it hurts a lot. Distantly Zachary remembers the awkward way Will was carrying his suitcase, the carefulness in his movements when he took off his shoes. He wonders, ever so briefly, if the pain has made Will cry too.

“Say something.” Will whispers. It almost sounds like a plea.

Zachary forces his gaze up, back to Will’s face, his eyes, once again trying and failing not to get hung up on the healed cut he remembers on his lip.

“I…” he croaks out, his voice not sounding like his own, “I love you.” The words just come out, he doesn’t know why, or where in his head they are coming from, his thoughts feel frozen and in wild turmoil at the same time. Will seems equally surprised, like he has expected a thousand replies but not this one.

“You are not okay,” Zachary almost chokes on the words, “This is not- fuck. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you- Will…”

“It is, though.” Will whispers, “It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s- My mom’s a nurse. There’s no internal bleeding. My ribs are… they aren’t broken. Just bruised. It’s okay.” He smiles, smiles like he wants Zachary to smile back but Zachary doesn’t think he’s ever been this far away from managing something even remotely resembling a smile, “And my… my shoulder…she popped it back in. She’s good at that, fixing dislocated joints. She even got me one of those immobilizers, so it’s okay. I’m okay. Really. I promise.”

The thing that gets Zachary the most about this is not the horribly casualness of it all, how Will says that his mom is good at fixing dislocated joints, how his ribs aren’t cracked and that makes it okay, that makes it good. It’s not that. What gets Zachary is the absolute sincerity in Will’s voice when he tells him that he’s okay. Like Will actually believes it. He _is_ okay, but Zachary is beginning to realize just how far away Will’s version of okay is from everyone else’s or at least Zachary’s.

“Your father did this.” It’s not a question and yet the answer is written in scarlet brightness on Will’s face. He doesn’t deny it though, which Zachary is thankful for. He couldn’t stand another lie. He lets out a shaky breath, “Your father-”

Will tugs down his shirt again. “It’s okay,” he repeats and Zachary would love to agree and like this, the bruises hidden away again, he could, he almost could. But he knows. He knows now and he can’t go back from that, from knowing what Will’s hiding underneath his shirt. From Zachary and everyone else.

“Stop saying that it’s okay,” Zachary gets out, “It’s not okay. It’s really not, Will. Your father did this to you. He beat you up. He- That’s not ‘just’ a punch in the face,” Zachary feels sick at having to refer to what he witnessed that day as ‘just a punch’ but he’s beginning to understand that that is how Will sees it and he has no idea how to make Will understand that neither of those things are okay, one punch or getting fucking beaten up, but there’s got to be a line somewhere. Even for Will, “Will, this is fucked up. You say there is no internal bleeding, but how would you know? Did your mom take you to a hospital? I don’t think she did, right? And dislocated- Fuck, that’s- You told me he was in jail because of this, I don’t understand why you didn’t call the police. We could… we could call the police right now We should.”

“If there was internal bleeding, I’d be dead by now.” Will says, simple as that.

Zachary just stares at him.

“What the fuck.” If breathing has had been hard before it sure is now. Zachary feels like the entirety of the Californian population is sitting on his chest, making it impossible to fill his heaving lungs with oxygen, “What the fuck, Will.

_I’d be dead by now_ , he says it like it’s nothing, just another sentence, just something to mention offhandedly, something to prove, to fucking prove that he is okay. It’s so fucked up, Zachary can barely fathom it, let alone put it into words.

“Do you even listen to yourself?” he asks, voice trembling as much as his hands, “And how the fuck would you know if you’d be dead by now? What if- I don’t know maybe it takes week to kill you? Are you- Are you in pain? It hurts, right? It looks like it hurts, fuck Will, we need to get you to a hospital. This is crazy.”

“My mom’s a nurse,” Will argues and Zachary would throw a pillow at him if he wasn’t irrationally scared shitless of how it might hurt Will even further.

“Yeah, a nurse that doesn’t take her kid to the hospital when he’s at risk for I don’t know cracked ribs puncturing his lung?” Zachary snaps, rubbing angrily at the tears still rolling down his cheeks, “Full offence, but your mom is fucking shit. If your proof that you don’t have internal bleeding is that you aren’t dead yet, than that doesn’t exactly go down in my book as her having taken care of you, making sure you are okay. You aren’t okay. I know you are in your mind, but you aren’t. It’s fucked up. This is fucking fucked up, why can’t you see that?”

Hurt flashes up in Will’s eyes, hurt and anger and something about it is familiar. Zachary recognizes it from Will lashing out at him after the fight with his dad has happened. It’s Will going into offence because he can’t handle what is going on right now otherwise. It’s Will defending himself, “Fuck you, this is none of-”

“Don’t say this is none of my business,” Zachary says, forcing himself to keep an even and calm tone as much as it’s possible, “It is my business. You love me. And I love you. It’s my fucking business. You can go and insult me and my family and drag out all the mistakes I made all the shit I put you through and it may all be true, it may all be fucking true but it doesn’t change that _this_ is fucked up and you clearly aren’t seeing that and I-”

“Yeah,” Will cuts him off, voice dripping with bitterness, “It’s because my head got bashed against the wall one too many times, right? That what you saying? You think I can’t access my own situation? The state my body is in? Newsflash arsehole, I _know_ this. I’ve been here before and I’ve had worse. When I say I’m okay, I mean that I’m okay. I’m as fucking okay as I’ll ever be so get off my case.”

“No.” Zachary grits his teeth, “No. I don’t know why you think that telling me you’ve been here before, that you ‘know’ this and ‘had worse’ is going to be reassuring in any form to me. Because it’s not. So don’t tell me to get off your case. I won’t.”

Now it’s Will’s turn to stare at him, a wild storm of emotions flickering through his eyes, lips quivering slightly where he’s got them pressed together, maybe in an attempt to keep them still, “What do you want from me?” he whispers eventually, “What the fuck do you want from me? Can’t you just please kiss me and shut up and let us be- Just let’s- I don’t want to fucking talk about this. I want to not think about this ever again so just- Please, Zach. Please.”

“I want to be sure that you are okay,” Zachary tells him, “And don’t say you are, because no. You aren’t. I want you to come with me to a hospital so you can get checked. And I want you to talk to the police so that piece of shit goes back to fucking jail.”

“He won’t,” Will says quickly and suddenly there’s only one emotion left in Will’s gaze. Bright and undisguised. It’s fear, “He won’t go back. He won’t ever go back to jail, he told me. Before that happens he’d kill me and my mom and Michael and himself last. He won’t ever-”

“He told you he’d _kill_ you?” Zachary thinks he might actually puke.

Now it’s Will who looks like he might start to cry and when he speaks his voice is barely audible “Only if I don’t keep my mouth shut again.”

It feels like a lifetime until Zachary finds his voice again and even then he’s not sure what’s actually going to come out of his mouth until he’s spoken the words. It’s like all his thinking processes have come to a screeching halt and his brain is running on emergency circuit now, “But he isn’t here. You are here. With me. He can’t- He can’t hurt you here. We can- We should-”

He sits up, ignoring the dizziness spreading through his head at the fast motion. He needs to get his phone, he needs to- Do they just call the police here? In California? Or the one in Virginia? Is this- Does he call 911 or the none emergency line? He doesn’t know. He isn’t sure. What are you supposed to do in a situation like this? Maybe he should ask Jack? Jack is an adult and sure so is Zachary but he doesn’t really feel like one right now. Maybe he should google it. How is he supposed to know what to do when your boyfriend shows up covered in bruises that his father inflicted on him, saying that if he _talks_ said father is going to murder him and his family?

“He’ll kill Michael!” Will sits up too, moving to grab Zachary by the wrist, but something about the movement must have hurt him, because he flinches, hissing in pain and retracting his arm, “Zach, he’ll kill him. And my mom. She’s not a good mom, she isn’t, I know that but she doesn’t- He’ll hurt her and kill her and he’ll-”

“No, he won’t,” Zachary pleads, “He won’t because he’ll be in jail. We call the police and they go get him and he won’t get the chance to hurt them or you. Will, c’mon you gotta understand that this is the only right thing to do.”

“ _You_ gotta understand,” Will argues, voice heavy with desperation, “Zach, my mom will take his side. She’s gonna make it sound like I’m lying. She’s not gonna let him go to jail. She’s gonna- And then he’ll-”

“Will, the police won’t take his side. He’s a convicted felon. He went to jail for hurting you, they’ll believe you if you tell them he did it again especially if your body looks like this,” Zachary, doesn’t get how Will doesn’t see this, how he’s thought about this and got to the conclusion that pretending nothing is wrong was the right thing to do. It doesn’t make sense, none of this does.

_It’s because my head got bashed against the wall one to many times, right? That what you saying?_

And that’s the thing, Zachary realizes with horror. It’s not that whatever Will’s father has done to him during his childhood, him beating Will, has fucked Will’s brain up. It’s not the physical damage that makes Will think like he does, react in this completely fucked up way. It’s that Will is so used to this, has lived with this fear and pain for years and years, probably since-

Will had told him how his father has hated him before he had even been born and that,-

Will has probably never known things any differently. He’s reacting in the only way he knows.

“They would believe you, Will,” Zachary insists, reaching out to take Will’s hand in his, needing the contact as a way of grounding, of reminding his brain that Will is right here, here with Zachary, that yes he is here, and yes he’s hurt, has been hurt, a lot probably, but he’s here now and Zachary knows and he’s going to help him now. He’s going to figure something out and Will will never get hurt again, “They would. And they’ll help you. Make that he can never touch you are your mom or Michael ever again. You just have to tell them.”

“I can’t.” Will croaks, “I can’t, Zach. I can’t. I’ve done it once. I’ve done and it was horrible, I can’t- You don’t know what this means. You don’t know how those things are, making a statement for the police, court hearings, the trial, it’s- The things they ask you, make you say… You don’t know what that’s like. I can’t do it. Not again. Don’t make me.”

Will tugs his hand out of Zachary’s and Zachary hates how much it’s trembling. Will looks terrified and Zachary feels helpless.

“Yes, you can do it,” he argues, “You say you’ve done it before so they’ll believe you even faster. They’ll-”

Suddenly Will is up on his feet, shaking his head frantically, “No,” he says, “No. You hear me? I’m saying no. I can’t do it. I can’t. I’m out. I’m never gonna go back home and that’s it. I’ll be done with it. I’ll just- I’m done.”

“But you aren’t, Will!” Zachary gets up too, reaching for Will on instinct, but Will flinches back and Zachary doesn’t know if it’s because he raised his voice or because of the quick movement. It doesn’t matter anyway. “You aren’t done with it. This isn’t right. I can’t just… I can’t just pretend like I don’t know-” he gestures to Will’s torso, to the bruises hidden by clothes now.

“You don’t _know_ shit!” Will snaps, “You don’t know fucking anything! So stop acting like you know how to handle this, because you don’t. You god damn don’t.”

Zachary lets out a shaky breath, forcing to unclench his hands. He hasn’t noticed he balled them into fists, but now that he’s aware, he’s mortified at the thought of how that might have looked to Will. Zachary doesn’t know anything about being hit. He’s never been in a physical fight, not even in school, they hadn’t even done something like wrestling in P.E. so Zachary has no idea how it feels. He’s never thought about it much, but he knows that things like Trauma exist and child abuse is a thing that happens, a horrible thing that fucks kids up in the head and he’s never thought that he might be confronted with shit like that at some point, but here he is and this is happening and Will is right. Zachary doesn’t know anything, least of all how to handle this.

He nods, “Yeah,” he says as calmly as he can, “I don’t. But I know I should have called the police that day at your house. And I know I should do it now.”

Will stares at him, frozen for a moment then he takes a step back, “No. You won’t. You won’t do it.”

Zachary swallows, “I will. I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” Will shakes his head, “Please, Zach.”

“I _have_ to.” Zachary repeats even though he doesn’t know how he’ll do it if forcing those three words out already takes more strength then he ever though he had, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do this.” Will tells him, voice quivering, “Don’t do this, Zach. I swear I’m okay. Don’t. Don’t please. Don’t do this to me.”

Zachary takes a deep breath, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Will. He grabs his phone from his desk. “I’m not doing this _to_ you. I’m doing this _for_ you.”

“Fuck you.” Will hisses and there are tears in his eyes, “Fuck you, if you do this- I swear to god, Zachary, if you do this-”

“Then what?” Zachary wraps his hand around the door handle, a cold shiver running down his spine. For some reason he hears the words before Will even says them. Maybe because he’s been expecting this since the very beginning. Not quite like this but somehow at some point he’s always figured this would happen.

“If you do this, we are done.”

Zachary closes his eyes and pushes down the door handle.

“If you do this we are over. This is it. Fuck you. I fucking hate you.” Will is half yelling now, but Zachary just knows that if he would turn around now he’d see tears too. But he can’t. He has to do this and he knows if he turns around now he’ll somehow let Will convince him and that can’t happen. It just can’t.

He pulls the door shut behind himself and sinks to the ground, clutching his phone to his chest. This is it. He just pretty much ended his relationship, the thing he’s been fighting for for weeks, what he almost fucked up only to realize how much it meant to him and now, now he has just walked out on Will, planning to do exactly what Will has begged him not to do.

He starts crying. Real crying. Deep chest racking sobs and tears rolling down his face in no way that could be described as dignified and he hates it, he hates everything about this, he hates having to do this, he hates having made Will cry, he hates that he’s such a crier himself, that he can’t just get it over with do what he knows deep in his heart is the right thing even if it feels like he’s betraying Will right now. But most of all he hates that Will is hurt, that his father did that to him, beat him, made him believe that there was no other way to escape this than to never go home, that that horrible man went to prison and got released only to do the same thing all over again. It’s just so wrong and unfair and Zachary doesn’t get how the justice system allows a guy like Will’s dad to be released again, be it after seven something years, when he clearly hasn’t changed at all.

Seven years. Seven years that somehow have been enough time for Will to become this put together person, this guy that seems so easy going and jokes all the time and is so kind and not at all bitter, and strong and smart and all that despite his father, despite what he’s been through. And Zachary never fucking knew. He never even has had a clue. But now he does and he remembers lying in bed with Will, after that day, after Will getting hit and the fighting and all that and he remembers asking if Will has been abused by his father. Sexually. And Will has had said no. And Zachary has felt so relieved. So incredibly overjoyed that this sinking suspicion that has had slithered its way into his brain has been proven wrong. He also remembers Will lying right to his face. Again and again. Back when he still has had claimed his father was not cool with him being gay, which later turned into his father not even knowing about it and then his father having not been around much and ultimately his father having been in prison. And then just now, Will making up that story about his mom getting mad over the car and-

Now he’s sitting here thinking about the bruising on Will’s body, about how he’s said that it’s ‘just beating’ on that day but hasn’t said that now, hasn’t claimed it to not be so bad because it has just been beating. In fact he hasn’t said much of anything about what his father has done to him. And suddenly Zachary isn’t sure at all anymore if Will’s ‘No’ to that question holds any weight in the end. Or if it has just been another lie. Another secret, another part of himself that Will has kept to himself, because it’s too much. Too fucked up. Too _whatever_ for Zachary to handle.

Zachary doesn’t think he’s been wrong. Zachary doesn’t think the answer is no. And Zachary has no idea what to do about it. _It’s not too much_ , Zachary wants to scream, wants to make Will understand that it’s not too much for him, except that it is. In this moment it is and Zachary feels so overwhelmed all he can do is cry, cry right here on the hallway floor, while his boyfriend, his boyfriend who’s been hurt is hating him fiercely on the other side of that door.

He’s dimly aware of Daerek appearing in the door way to the living room. Of him saying something, hurrying to Zachary’s side and crouching down on the floor next to him, but he doesn’t hear a word he’s saying. It’s just white noise, it all gets drowned out by how loud Zachary’s own head is and how much his chest hurts, because for some reason there is no air, no oxygen getting into his lungs and that doesn’t make sense, because he is breathing, _he is_ , and his heart is hammering like crazy against his ribcage and he’s gulping in air and he just can’t stop, but nothing is getting in, nothing is working he’s just-

“Hey, hey, Zach,” Daerek has his hand on Zachary’s shoulders, eyes wide with worry, “Hey what’s wrong? What’s going? Talk to me.”

“I-“ Zachary gets out through heaving gasps, “I- Will, he’s-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Daerek says and no, Zachary wants to tell him no. Nothing is okay. Will is not okay. And Will just broke up with Zachary, because Zachary has to do the right thing. The right fucking thing, it sounds so lame and stupid, but Zachary knows, he knows he has to and he knows that he can’t breathe, let alone talk, he doesn’t get how Daerek is expecting him to when Will’s father fucking beat him, and probably raped him and threatened to fucking kill him and-

“C’mon, Zach, look at me.” Daerek rubs his shoulders, forcing Zachary to look at him, focus on his face, his eyes, the soft smile, “Just breathe, it’s okay. I promise whatever is going on, it’s okay. You and Will had a fight? That sucks but you guys will fix it, it’s gonna be okay.”

“No,” Zachary gasps, shaking his head, tasting the salt on his lips, “No, it’s not. We won’t. We are over. We are over. This is it. I’ve got to- I have- He’s-”

“You are having a panic attack,” Daerek points out as if that’s going to change anything, as if that makes breathing easier, as if that’s going to fix things. It’s not. It’s not because Zachary has to make that call. He has to do it and nothing Daerek or anyone else can say will change that fact, “Just breathe, Zach. I’m sure it’s not so bad. Just calm down. Just breathe.”

“He hates me- He hates me now, he-”

“He doesn’t hate you, Zach.” Daerek cuts in, “The guy loves you so much, he forgave you for you cheating on him with your ex, he-”

A hysterical brittle laugh forces is way out of Zachary’s throat, in between sobs. He’s laughing. He can’t stop. It’s so ridiculous. Zachary has cheated. He has fucking cheated and it couldn’t be less relevant. To anything. Zachary wants to go back to this now, to fighting with Will about how much of a fuck up Zachary is, about how Zachary hurt him with his stupid selfishness. About Jena. He wants to go back. He wants Will to hurt from that not from the hands of his father if he has to be hurting at all.

“Who even does that?” Zachary gets out between two gasped breaths, “Who- Who forgives someone for cheating? Who? Daerek? I-” He claws his fingers into his shirt, “He should have broken up with me? I- I fucking _wanted_ him to break up with me because I couldn’t handle it; I couldn’t handle being in love with him, how stupid is that, how fucking stupid? I fucked my fucking ex-girlfriend. To hurt him. I did that I’m- And he _forgave_ me, Daerek. He forgave me. And now I- I gotta-” he helplessly gestures to his phone, “And he hates me. He hates me for it. He wouldn’t hate me for cheating but he hates me for this and I-” he presses his eyes shut only for a moment, “And I have to do it. I have to.”

“Zach, you are,” Daerek hesitates like he’s unsure what to say, eyes searching Zachary’s face for something. What, Zachary doesn’t know, “You are kind of scaring me, right now. What’s going on? What do you have to do, that he hates you for?”

Zachary takes in a deep breath, then another, focussing on that. On breathing only. It’s getting better now. It’s a little easier, more even. He can actually feel the burn in his lungs.

“Will is not okay.” He says, slowly, carefully, testing how brittle his voice is. It’s bad, but it’s not getting any better and he has to- if he wants to have any chance of being able to tell the police what has happened he has to be able to tell it to his friend too. And besides, Zachary is terrified, he’s scared shitless of this, of everything and having someone in it with him, someone who can tell him that he’s indeed making the right choice here, it would help, he thinks. It would make him feel less alone and more like he can do this.

“He’s not okay, because his father beat him. Beats him. Whatever. He-” Zachary pauses, taking another moment to just breathe, “He abused him. As a kid. I didn’t know. Up until- I mean, I know now. I know that he beat him and I think that he… he did other stuff to him too. And he just got out of jail and now Will’s- He’s hurt. His whole stomach and his ribs, it’s just all bruises and he’s- He said something about a dislocated shoulder? I don’t even know. But,” he avoids looking at Daerek, he can picture his face vividly and it’s hard enough to talk as it is. He feels like he’s betraying Will in every sense of the word, “He never went to a hospital. He could be, like… be bleeding internally or something? I don’t know, he could right? Like, even a week later or something. I think that’s a thing. But he refuses to see a doctor or talk to the police and I- I told him _I_ would call the police. I told him I would do it and he said if I did we’d be over. He said we are done. For good.” It’s only then that Zachary forces himself to look up, by some miracle he has managed to stop crying, vision no longer blurry with tears, “But I have to, right? I have to tell.”

Daerek looks positively shocked, eyes wide and mouth open a little. He just stares at Zachary for a few endless moments, “Zach…” he breathes and even this simple word, just his name, it carries a tone of horror with it that Zachary recognizes dimly from his own voice.

“Zach, what do you mean he’s hurt? He… he seemed normal? When he-“ Daerek gestures in the direction of the front door, “He seemed-”

“I know how he seemed,” Zachary replies, wishing he could say anything else but this, “He’s good at that. Seeming normal. Apparently… apparently he’s got some practice with that. Fuck,” he pauses and swallows, the slowly he moves to get up, using the wall as support because the first few moments he isn’t sure if his legs will carry his weight, “I don’t know how to do this, Daerek. I don’t know, how do you… do I just call 911? Is there…” he rubs his face, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “Is there a way to force him to go see a doctor? I…I mean I don’t want to force him to do anything, but…”

It’s then that Daerek finds his voice again, he reaches out for Zachary, just a simple touch a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but it’s good, it makes Zachary feel a little less like he’s going to vomit right here in the hallway.

“Okay, I… I think we should go talk to Jack.” He says and Zachary just nods numbly, “And then we’ll figure out what to do about Will seeing a doctor. I trust you when you say he might need one. I don’t… I kind of have a hard time processing all this but we’ll figure it out, yeah?” He tries for a smile but Zachary doesn’t have it in him to even attempt to return it. Daerek continues anyway, “And he might hate you right now, but it’s… I think you are making the right call, Zach. I really do. And I’m sure deep down he agrees.”

Zachary lets out a sigh, letting Daerek wrap him up in a much needed hug. He has been right, he can’t do this alone, he can’t help will alone, this is too much, too big, but he can still try and if Daerek helps him, if they get Jack in on it they’ll manage somehow. They have to. And Jack has always been kind to Zachary, he takes care of the team, of them. He’ll know what to do. Zachary is dreading telling him, repeating those words he has barely managed to stammer out for Daerek, but he’ll just have to come through. For Will.

“I just don’t get it,” Zachary mumbles into Daerek’s shoulder, “I don’t get why people do stuff like that. And I don’t get why it has to happen to Will. I don’t-” he can feel himself tearing up again, “He’s such a good person and I… I’m so fucking in love with him I don’t understand why this is happening.”

Daerek doesn’t have an answer. He just squeezes Zachary a little tighter, letting Zachary hide his face in his chest, hide himself from what he has to do for a bit longer. He knows he should get to it, do what he has said he would do, get Will the help he says he doesn’t need, make sure that piece of shit father of his gets put back into prison here he belongs. Where he can’t hurt Will or anyone anymore. He should do that, he knows that and he will. Just not right now. Right now he really needs this hug.

They stay like this for a little while, Daerek with his arms around Zachary, rubbing his back and murmuring nonsensical reassurances while Zachary cries a little more, amazed by the fact that there are still tears left inside his body.

The whole time his room door stays closed.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this :) Please leave feedback, bc you know comments keep me motivated.


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